


Camp Blood Gulch

by floralNINJAchan



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Camp Half-Blood, Crossover, it's complicated - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-11 00:40:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4414292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floralNINJAchan/pseuds/floralNINJAchan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Note from the author: The only *warnings* I will give is that there are none on this first chapter, however that is subject to change as later instalments are added. I will change the warning settings when the time comes but I'm hoping to keep (the violence and death and such) at a minimum. Also there will be strong language. We will not be minding our Ps and Qs and four letter words are our friends.</p></blockquote>





	1. I Accidently Vaporized a Throwaway Joke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from the author: The only *warnings* I will give is that there are none on this first chapter, however that is subject to change as later instalments are added. I will change the warning settings when the time comes but I'm hoping to keep (the violence and death and such) at a minimum. Also there will be strong language. We will not be minding our Ps and Qs and four letter words are our friends.

Look, I didn’t want to be a half-blood. 

I know I’m not being original by staying this considering you’ve probably heard it before by someone else, but believe me when I say that being one is the worst. I could give you a three-ish paragraph warning about how awful it is, but again, it’s been done before me. To sum it up, we half-bloods live in constant danger. All our life we are hunted by the monsters of myth, when we “come of age” we get full on attacked, and we are given very few options to survive. You can die in the most horrific ways. Sometimes in the most unbelievable ways imaginable, but most always painfully. It’s not pretty.

If you feel as though you “can relate to this story” or “recognize” yourself, then stop reading right now. Live in your wonderful ignorance and don’t get tangled up in this dangerous madness. You don’t want them to find you.

Then again, why would you listen to me? If you’re normal, and thank the gods if you are, then you probably think I’m just spouting nonsense. Well, I just thought that too when I was “normal”, or at least as normal as teenagers can be in these awkward time in our lives. 

 

My name is Carolina. 

I’m fifteen years old. Until a few months ago, I was a student at M.O.I. Academy, a private school for troubled youth (aka the problem kids) of upstate New York. Does that make me a troubled adolescent? Yes. I’m not going to argue with that. However, I will point out that I’m not a dick like the other students that come about the academy. Troubled for me is fighting with dumbasses who deserve it and a bit of an… “over competitive personality” mixed with “small outbursts of misdirected rage”. At least I defend others and fight my own battles, and not just torment others for the sake of doing so because “daddy didn’t get me that $200 pair of painful shoes”. The only somewhat decent person, and my only friend, is Epsilon. He’s got a big mouth that practically begs for an ass-kicking, and he’s a scrawny lil’ asshole with a muscular disease or something so he walks funny. He’s an easy target to say the least. I’ve yet to understand however how he can get out of Phys-Ed every day, yet can run like hell when I come up to fight his battles.

If anything about Moia (if we have to use the acronym for our school, we at least get to make fun of it), the teachers aren’t as completely awful as the students. That is if they stick around enough. Our current Latin teacher, Dr. Church, who started a little after the beginning of the year replacing the pervious teacher who left due to “personal health” reasons was actually a pretty decent guy. He was the sanest to say the least. Surprisingly enough, he made Latin actually not as boring as it appeared to be. Especially since he had a southern accent that made “aut viam inveniam aut faciam”* sound like he was a wizard in an old western film. On quiz days he would slick back his salt and pepper hair, scoot around in his high-tech wheelchair, and unintentionally channel Shatner while calling us out to translate the more bizarre phrases.

If I had to point out the more aggravating person at Moia, it would have to be my Algebra teacher, Mr. Jones (pronounced Jo-en-es) who happens to be the biggest dick on the face of humanity. He’d always taking cheap shots at me during class, calling me out for no reason, and even making me solve some of the problems on the board from my seat. You see that’s a bit of a challenge for me. And by a bit I mean a huge day to day pain in the ass. 

I’m dyslectic. I also have ADHD. So reading numbers and letters far away or even up close on a page can be a bigger struggle than taking on a guy twice my size. With my arms tied behind my back. And blindfolded. Underwater. It’s pretty damn awful. 

Mr. Jo-en-ass was also a bias son of a bitch. He constantly turned a blind eye when lil’ Miss Girlie gave me shit and talked during class and gave me hell. But, as soon as I crack and fight back, I got my ass sent to sit out in the hallway. And it doesn’t lighten up. Not even on off-campus outings. For example, our field trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I wasn’t safe from his evil watch. In more ways than one.

 

What could be more enjoyable than cramming a bunch of teenagers in a gaudy yellow bus, drag them down to a museum they probably will never appreciate visiting, and have them surrounded by dumbass tourists? Nothing at all unless you’re a kleptomaniac like Girlie and her annoying friends. And what could have been even more fun than to be ushered into a giant lobby and formed into a line of pairs of two? Also nothing. Well, except that I got to walk with Epsilon and was close enough to Dr. Church to hear him lecture on the exhibit we came to see; Ancient Greece: The Myths and Legends of History. He went on expositing about the different myths that went with each piece of art. There were worn down columns and orange colored pottery with drawings portraying scenes from many Greek myths. One column Dr. Church lingered around for quite some time documented an epic battle with many fallen soldiers and gruesome images. The teacher eyed it solemnly as though he was mourning the loss of a friend. 

We made our way to a worn out vase with the image of a naked man with the caption “Eros” underneath. Some of the girls in our group made a few crude jokes, in which Dr. Church seemed to overhear and comment more professionally about the connection between Eros and the word “erotic”. Seeing as the doctor wasn’t much for joke making, his addition was more educational than “haha he’s the god of passionate love and shit so it’s funny?”

“Carolina,” Dr. Church called me out, “who were the parents of this particular god?”

Crap. He always seemed to think I knew the answer. His class was the only one I bothered studying for, but I usually got a lot of the names mixed up. Charon or Chiron, Ares and Aries (because misspelt words are worth a half a point deduction each), they trip me up sometimes. Also, “A” was apparently popular when naming the gods.

“Um… Aphrodite-”

“Goddess of what?” 

That was easy. “Love.”

“And the father?”

…Shit. Who was the poon hound of the week in Olympus with that one again? I had to go with my default answer because honestly this god was the culprit more often than not. “Zeus?” I answered with hesitation. Dr. Church looked at me with slight disappointment.

“Incorrect, Carolina.” Some of the other kids chuckled. Like they could have done any better. “The correct answer,” the teacher raised his voice cueing his students to kindly shut the fuck up, “is Ares, the god of war.” 

“And now,” Mr. Jones began from the back of the crowd, “it’s time for lunch. Everyone file back outside.”  
With that, we headed back towards the entrance. Just as I was about to leave the exhibit Dr. Church called back to me.

“Carolina.”

Epsilon and I exchanged a look and then he looked to our Latin teacher as if he needed some kind of confirmation. Apparently they had had some sort of silent conversation in a matter of seconds because Epsilon let out a sigh. He told me he would wait for me outside, slipping in a joke about if I didn’t hurry he would steal my cookie from my boxed lunch the school provided for the trip.

I shuffled my way over to where Dr. Church had parked his chair. “Yes, sir?” I (surprisingly) asked sheepishly. I don’t know why I was nervous. It was just something about my teacher’s expression and the atmosphere or aura or whatever surrounding him. It was tense for honestly no reason I could see. Then again, “emotions” hasn’t always been my strong suit, or so I’ve been told. He gazed upon the decorated column he had looked at earlier with the same expression as he had then. We kind of just looked at it for an awkwardly long time.

Before I could ask what exactly he wanted from me, Dr. Church broke the silent. “Do you understand the importance of these legends have on real life?”  
I just kind of blanked out for a minute. I really didn’t know what to say to that so I answered honestly. “I don’t really know,” then quickly added, “sir.” 

“Well, Miss Carolina, you should probably take my lessons more to heart. It you do not learn from history you will have to tragically repeat it.”

“I know how the phrase goes, sir. But, with all due respect, these are just what you said, legends. Not history.”

Dr. Church chuckled. “Ah yes. Legends; a traditional story sometimes popularly regarded as historical but unauthenticated. Well, some history is legend and vice versa. You just have to look and listen in the right places to know which is which.” He smiled slightly as he began to get his into motion. “Come now. Let’s join the others.”

 

I sat next to Epsilon on the edge of the fountain outside the museum. The busy crowds of people shuffled by on Fifth Avenue past us as we nibbled on our boxed lunches. I ended up finding more than just my cookie missing, however, since my good friend had finished his as well as half my turkey sandwich. I caught him in the act of scarfing down my bag of pretzels. I wasn’t very hungry anyways.

I decided just to sip on my Coke and watch Girlie and her friends pick pocket tourists’ wallets. Dr. Jones, being across the way, didn’t notice though since he only seemed to have an eye for only my “wrong doings”. Dr. Church had his head buried in a book over at the end of the ramp next to the steps. When he happened to have a book in hand, he isn’t going to be acknowledging reality any time soon. The petty criminals soon got tired of that and decided to share their used gum with Epsilon’s hair. He’s hair was already an endless void of curliness, and they just made it a black hole. That gum wasn’t going to be found anytime soon. If I hadn’t been so mad about it I might have had time to laugh at the image of Epsilon with a completely shaved head.  
I saw red. It was like my whole body would go numb unless I just hit something. Or someone. I felt as though my rage went from a five out of ten to a fucking thirty!  
As Girlie was too busy laughing like a hyena at Epsilon getting his hand stuck in his hair when trying to find out what got stuck in it, I got up in her face and balled my fists and lifted it prepared to punch. But I couldn’t. There was something holding me back. I turned to find Mr. Jones grapping my arm. 

“Miss Carolina,” he seemed to be different for some reason. Looming. Taller? “I suggest you come with me to have a little talk.” Knowing him, this probably meant detention. At this point, Girlie took notice and gave me a shit eating grin than made me wish I could still punch her in the face. 

Epsilon came to my aid and tried telling the teacher that I hadn’t done anything wrong, but he didn’t care. He kept looking over at Dr. Church to come roll up and help out, but he was too deeply invested in his book. He frantically looking back and forth between the Latin teacher and me as if I was being escorted to a firing squad. But, there was nothing he could do. The math teacher dragged me into the museum and took me into the only secluded area; the Greek exhibit. 

I was expecting him to chew me out like he would in front of class all the time. But, once Mr. Jones let go of my arm, he just made his way to the center of the exhibit hall and did a one-eighty to turn and face me. Except he didn’t appear to get smaller as he went further away. He stayed the same size. It was as if he got bigger as he-  
I didn’t have time to understand what was going on until the now towering teacher swung his fist at me. I don’t know how but I was able to somehow dodge. He came at me again with the other fist, but I was now more in tune with my senses and started running for the exit. Just then, a shadow passed over me. With a thunderous thud, Mr. Jones stood in front of the open double doors. He waved his hand and the doors closed. I was boxed in with what I could only describe as a giant. A fucking twelve foot tall giant that wanted me dead. 

 

I turned around and started bolting to the other side of the exhibit with Mr. Jones falling behind making earth shaking thumps as he chased. I noticed a small emergency exit sign pointing towards the right side of the area leading towards displays of vases and plates. What I didn’t expect to find just before the exit was Dr. Church parked in his wheelchair blocking the way.

“Use this!” he called as he tossed something. I just barely caught it in my hands. I looked down at it the object; a small red compact pocket knife. Just as I was about to yell “are you fucking kidding me?” to the teacher for such a small weapon to face such a colossal bat shit insane person, he just vanished.

“Fuck it,” I muttered as I opened up the knife and prepared to attack. Then I felt like dropping it because it started glowing. I held on though as it grew in size. The red plastic formed into a rod, the small blade became a slightly bigger blade at the end with a sense of fire burning within it, and it was fucking bad-ass. In my hands was no longer a tiny pocket knife but a mighty spear. 

I didn’t get too much time to marvel at what the fuck was going on or where the hell the Latin teacher was, because just as soon as I turned my back the giant Jones was standing right in front of me. He eyed the spear and then smirked as if he could possibly fear such a small weapon. I decided to prove him wrong. I lunged at the monster with all my might. I felt all fired up. And apparently so did my spear. A small flame engulfed the blade as I made a go at the giant’s foot. I stabbed it. Hard. Pain clearly showed on his face, letting out a horrid cry that was loud enough that it ended up cracking the glass of the display cases. Pulling it out, I prepared my spear for the next attack. While the giant was still distracted, I was able to get a good slash across both his knees. Wreathing in agony, the giant began to stumble backwards and had almost lost his balance. I took this opportunity to take the final blow. I pulled back my arm and took aim. In a single fluid motion, I through the spear as hard as I could, hitting the giant right in between the eyes. Instead of blood oozing out of his new wound, Mr. Jones was a sand castle in a power fan. He had exploded into a pile of yellow dust. 

I thought I had gone crazy. My adrenalin was replaced be panic. I was alone. No Dr. Church at the exit, the yellow “ash” of my dead teacher was all over the floor, and in my hands was the red pocket knife. 

I stumbled out of the entrance to see Epsilon picking hairs out of his hand where he had gotten it stick in the gum, Girlie and her friends were counting the money they had collected, and Dr. Church looked as though he had never left his spot. I walked over to my friend with noticeable worry on my face.

“What wrong?” he asked. “Did Mr. Jones give you a good lecture?”

I got confused. 

“You mean Mr. Jo-en-es, right?” I couldn’t believe after months of being stuck in that guy’s class and having spent an entire class period forced to learn the correct pronunciation that he would just forget it.

But Epsilon looked at me his “are you serious look” and replied, “No… I mean Mr. Jones.” He then pointed to man who was walking out of the museum. He looked completely different from the teacher I had just vaporized. Some of the students came up to him and started chatting. I couldn’t believe it. I must have been going crazy or something. 

Dr. Church. He might have an answer! I walked over to the teacher who was still engrossed in his book. I wanted to ask him questions. I wanted to confront him about what had happened. But, all I got from him a glance up from his book. “Oh,” he looked at the knife in my hand, “there’s to be no weapons on school outings, Carolina. You know the rules.” He extended his hand and I could do nothing else but to give him the blade.

After that the day was just a haze. We saw another exhibit. We were shuttled back onto the bus and then that was that. All I could think about when I got back to my dorm room was “what the actual FUCK just happened.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Latin phrase used translates to: "I will either find a way or make one." 
> 
> Hello and thank you for reading the first chapter of what I hope to a continuous fanfic. This first chapter was kind of hard for me since I was doing my best to keep it close to the start of the book. I have a lot of ideas I want to get to but they aren't until we get to Camp Half Blood, so the story wont take too much of a derivation for the "source" material until then. Any how, I hope you stick with me and enjoy!
> 
> Your Floralist of Ninjas,  
> Reba The Mermaid


	2. Epsilon Unexpectedly Loses His Pants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a short chapter after so long. Life happened and my new job took priority over writing. I'll hopefully be uploading another chapter next week. Hope y'all enjoy.

I lasted about two more months at Moia. After the whole fieldtrip thing I just couldn’t get over the Mr. Jones (Jo-en-es) thing. Mr. Jones (just Jones) was alright and all but… I couldn’t help but wonder how they replaced him so quickly. And why everyone kept denying he existed.  
I asked around for a few weeks to some of his past students, teachers, and even Epsilon. Again. No one seemed to remember and always corrected me like I just mispronounced the “new” teacher’s name. But he wasn’t the same guy. And he DID exist. He had too. 

Sometime Epsilon would slip up. I’d say something only he would know about the dead bastard. Then he would “correct” himself, walk away, or just say “his memory was acting up” or “he was mistaken”. We both knew that was complete bullshit. If Epsilon had one thing going for him, it was a good fucking memory.  


On top of people thinking I was crazy, they also started thinking I was stupid. I couldn’t focus. My dyslexia was getting worse somehow. My ADHD was going crazy. I couldn’t sit still, I could barely focus in studies, and all I seemed to manage was excelling at P.E. But, pelting assholes with dodgeballs (and getting sent to the office after breaking that one guy’s nose), and running five more laps than the other kids because of what seemed to be built up adrenaline. I could barely make my usual B- average. I worked fucking hard for those grades too. They started dropping to Cs and Ds, and then they just rested at nice big Fs. And in Latin- You know what, FUCK. LATIN. After getting NOTHING out of Dr. Church, I just started not listening to anything he had to say. That included his lessons. How could I trust the intelligence of a man who denies what I saw clearly with my own two eyes; the giant, the pocket knife, and the fucked up shit that went down. 

At least I had my lovely competitive aggression at record highs. Anger and being over competitive? Yeah that’s sure not killing my life at this school. I ended up going to the counselor almost as much as I went to class. It didn’t really help though. We couldn’t find what was “wrong” with me… Aggression ran in the family I guess? Like I would know that… 

 

It wasn’t much of a surprise that I ended up sitting in front of Dr. Church in the empty classroom after last period. I could tell he was trying to be as “nice” about the whole thing. But, honestly I knew what was coming. I didn’t want it to happen. I tried being good. I tried to keep my “little rage monster”, or whatever the counselor kept telling me it was with fucking hand puppets (really? Using that technic on high school students?), under control. But ever since the museum it just kept getting worse and worse. 

“Carolina,” the teacher’s southern accent made him tone even more depressing than it should have sounded. “I know you have had your problems here. Under your particular circumstances, it would be hard on anyone… However, and I trust you know that this is just as hard for me as this is for you, I will have to inform you that the academy will not be extending you an invitation of enrollment for the next school year. A letter has already been sent to your guardian regarding the matter.” He went quite for a moment; expecting me to say something. Anything. His eyes practically screamed it.

I stood up from my seat and turned my back to my now former teacher. I was almost out the door when I could hear Dr. Church wheel forward slightly.  
“I expect great things from you, Carolina.”  
I slammed the door behind me.

 

It was the last day of school and all I could think about was where I was going to go from here. Everyone else was going on vacations or to summer homes; places only the richest of problem children could afford with their parents’ platinum cards. As for me, I was dragging my bulky, worn-down trunk to the bus stop. No one paid me any mind or offered to help. That had pretty much been the whole rest of the semester. 

Surprisingly enough, waiting for me at the bus stop was Epsilon. He looked nervous which wasn’t like him at all. Usually he’s a cheeky little bastard. He was sitting on the bench looking at me like someone had just died. He was about to get up but I just dumped my trunk and placed my hand on his shoulder. I coaxed him back down seeing as he “shouldn’t get up on my account”, and I sat down beside him. 

"You heading back to your aunt's?" he inquired after a few moments of awkward silence. 

"Yeah," I replied. "Don't know for how long though... Without Moia- I mean M.O.I., she'll probably going to finally ship me off to another relative somewhere out West. I overheard her back during spring break talking to an uncle three-times-removed or whatever out in San Francisco about dumping me off there."  
Epsilon didn't seem too happy about that last part.

"'Lina, that's on the other side of the country... That's not-" he took a moment to think of what to say, as if he was holding back something important. "Listen, Carolina. If you even need anywhere to stay; for the summer, or even after, or whatever; contact me and come here." Epsilon handed me a card reading:

"Epsilon  
Keeper  
Half-Blood Hill  
Long Island, NY  
(800) 009 - 0009"

"Keeper? Half-Blood-"

"Shhh!" He cut me off. "Look. Just... Just let me at least see you home ok?"

I nodded awkwardly to the request. I didn't know what had gotten into him, but I couldn't avoid Epsilon from getting on the bus with me. I did however manage to ditch him at my stop and get into a cab to my aunt's apartment. I felt a little bad about it but he was being weird. And I really didn't want to have to deal with that right now. Especially with the possibility of maybe seeing my aunt…

I didn't really know much about my aunt. Well, she was more like an extremely distant relative that didn't realize she even had a "half-niece" until, I think it was a cousin of an uncle of another cousin, contacted her about taking me in. Actually, all my family was in fact rather distant... My mother hadn't really been close to her family members. I can’t say I blamed her…Very few of them were decent human beings.

 

The apartment was small and empty. There was a couch that folded out into a bed and a coffee table in the living room; a kitchenette taking up half the space with a refrigerator, a microwave, and pots and pans scattered about; and a bathroom with a shower, a toilet, and a sink. No one really lived in it. “No one” being just me during winter and spring break. My half/step/who-the-fuck-even-knows-at-this-point aunt was always away either on business or on vacation paid by her company. She would usually leave a few $20 in an envelope tacked up on the fridge for when I did come "home". I'd usually order food and have it delivered, or buy a bunch of frozen dinners and cereal. Not the healthies choices but at this point I didn’t care. 

I dumped my trunk in the middle of the living room and grabbed an old frozen pasta meal from the freezer. I spent the next hour and a half eating barely edible fettuccine alfredo and rummaging through my trunk. I took out everything I owned (which wasn’t very much) and scattered it around the apartment in a semi-organized pilling system. Worn out clothes took up a corner of the room, now useless notebooks filled with scholastic scribbles covered the coffee table, and all my personal mementos were in front of me on the floor. There weren’t many though.  
I didn’t have much left of my “past”, if you could even call it that. I picked up an old album filled with little to no pictures in it; some of myself when I was very young, some from long before I was even born of my mother back when she had been in the army, and the only picture I have left of us together. I couldn’t remember it though because it had been taken right after I was born in the hospital. My great-grandmother, whom had first been my caretaker for five years before she passed away when I was six, always told me that I “looked just like her”. It got to the point where she would call me by the wrong name at times. Now that I was older I could kind of see it but I didn’t dwell too much on that fact.  
I tossed aside the album and picked up an old set of dog tags. They were all scratched up and barely readable. The only clearly etched word was just a name. 

Allison. 

Reading it, I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. She served a full tour of duty and came out of a 0% chance of survival situation that involved heavy gunfire. She was the toughest soldier in her assignment, and could take on any of her fellow servicemen, always coming out winning. She was a candidate for the Silver Star award. She always made it back home no matter where she was stationed. She was a super soldier. A superhero. The coolest person ever. I would have loved to really meet her… But when it mattered most, she didn’t make it. 

I always felt like I’d been the one who killed her. From what I’d been told, I didn’t stop crying when I was born. My mother would try everything but I wouldn’t calm down. She would spend countless sleepless nights trying everything she could to get me to sleep. She “couldn’t handle it” was the scripted response I had been told whenever I would ask. I never believed it. At least, I didn’t want to. She didn’t leave me. In my eyes, she was dead. Harsh, I know. But considering she was the only parent I even subconsciously knew, I was being nice. I was angrier at the father who literally screwed over my mother and, in turn, my entire life. But that’s not even a story for another time. It’s just that. Don’t know him, don’t care, just know that if I ever meet him I’m going to punch him in the face. 

It was getting late in the day and all I could do was change out of the now meaningless M.O.I.A. uniform and change into an old army sweatshirt and sweatpants. Throwing out my empty food container, I scrimmaged around the kitchen looking for money. All I could find was $80 with a note saying that my “aunt” was away and wouldn’t be back for a month. How only eighty bucks was supposed to last me a month was beyond me. I mean, I was used to it from the winter and spring breaks but that was just a few weeks. So from that I knew I would be alone all summer, at least until she dumped me off on someone else. 

I let out a sigh as my mind wondered back to what Epsilon had said to me… I picked up my uniform blazer off the floor and took the business card out of the front pocket. I was wondering on whether or not to call the number. It seemed like a good deal. Spending the summer with my only friend instead of alone in an apartment that was so white and quiet, I could almost mistake it for a padded room. 

Just as I was about to key the phone number into the home phone (yes we still have one of those) there was a rapid knocking at the door. I thought whoever it was, was going to break it down. Turns out it was Epsilon. At least the back of his head because when I opened up the door he fell forward flat on his dorky face. I helped him up to find his face was almost ghostly pale. 

“We have to g-go. N-now,” he had an urgency to his horrified voice. Before I knew it, he was off the floor and had grabbed me by the wrist, trying to drag me out of the apartment.

“Slow down, short-stack,” I said as I stood my ground. He wasn’t the strongest guy but I was only around a hundred fifteen pounds (mostly muscle, thank you very much). It was kind of sad. I tugged him slightly and we were both inside. Epsilon slammed the door shut and barricaded it with himself. “Just let me get packed first. You know I was just about to call you-”

“Take only what you can carry and follow me.” Suddenly he had made his way to the window, opening it up and shimming himself onto the fire escape. He was a fast lil’ fucker.  
I didn’t have enough time to understand what his problem was but I shoved all I could into a small knapsack “aunt” had stored in the closet; the album, some clothes, and the $80. I fastened the dog tags around my neck and climbed out the window to meet Epsilon. Not to my surprise, he was already half-way to the street below. I had to skip every other step just to keep up with him. He led me to a motorcycle waiting by the side of the road. The rider saw us and through helmets our way. Epsilon hopped into the side car and pulled down the goggles on his helmet, looking like a massive dork. I had no choice but to slide on behind the driver. 

“Hold on tight,” the driver instructed. I didn’t have much of a choice since as soon as he said that, the man went from 0 to 60 in no time flat. We zoomed around New York traffic heading out of the city and towards Long Island. 

It was getting dark out as we traveled down the road. A sign for “Delphi Strawberry Service” passed us by. The trip had been deathly quiet aside from the roaring of the motorcycle’s engine. Epsilon had been looking around franticly the whole time while the driver had his attention locked of the path ahead. There was an unbreakable tension surrounding us. I’d tried to bring myself to ask a question. Something. Anything. But I kept to myself, not able to shake the feeling that if I did something terrible would happen. It turned out I didn’t actual have to say anything for that to occur. 

Before I understood what was going on, we had somehow had gotten completely turned over. I must have hit my head hard because I was fading in and out of consciousness. I saw trees and then black. There was a loud ringing in my ears mixed with a growling and Epsilon’s calling out to me. He’d found me in my landing place and towered over me, trying to get me to my feet. 

Feet.

Pants.

Epsilon didn’t have any pants on… Now that was probably weird on its own. But it was the other thing about that that made me question just how hard I’d hit my head. His gimpy legs were covered in fur. Not the normal “guy’s with hairy legs” kind of thing, but honest to God fUCKING FUR. He didn’t have feet. He had hooves. Like a fucking goat. Either I was going insane or had one hell of a concussion. 

“Get her to the camp!” the motorcyclist called from afar. My vision was getting better, presumably. The rider’s helmet had been knocked off showing a brunet guy with a sword… fighting a giant black, horrifyingly rabid looking dog. Scratch that, my vision was fucked.

Epsilon started with all his might, which was just as much as mine at this point, to drag me along into the forest. Behind us the brunet was getting his ass kicked. He looked just as beat up as we were and still was able to stay on his feet, barely able to keep up a decent defense let along an offence. For some reason, his continuing to fight gave me a boost of energy. I started giving Epsilon more support than what he was giving me. We made it a few feet before I heard a loud thud. I looked back to see a few fallen trees and the big beast looming over the brunet.  
At that moment, something inside me just clicked. I propped Epsilon up against a tree and ran towards the action. I’d felt like I’d chugged several shots of espresso that had been brewed in Red Bull. I felt the more adrenaline in that moment than I had in my entire life. 

Before I knew it I was by the side of my ally, with his sword that had been knocked from his side in my hand, and stood between him and the beast. I lunged forward. It was somewhat similar to the museum but this time I knew somehow what I was doing. The large canine tried to take a snap at me but I quickly dodged and rolled out of the way, taking its focus with me. I ran away from the guy laying on the ground and from my furry friend, and guided the monster into more open area. It tried to attack once more but there was no stopping me. I circled behind it and was able to get in a good swipe. It howled in great pain. I jumped with sword held high and put the beast out of its misery. It was over. Nothing but a familiar pile of ash was left in the place of the monster. 

With that, I lost all strength. My knees gave way and I tumbled down into the dirt. The last thing I remember was the brunet’s face; a stupid fucking haircut with a poof in the front, a mischievousness to his appearance, and the most beautiful scar across his left eye… I don’t know why it seemed “beautiful” to me, but everything faded to black before I could find out for myself…

\---

I came to a few times in a cozy room that I didn’t recognize. The first time I was greeted to a girl a few years older than me. She had been bandaging one of my wounds but had stopped to look at me. Her expression was hard to place. It was angry, melancholy, discouraged, and worried all in one grimly calm way. The girl picked up a cup from the nightstand and nudged the cup’s straw towards my lips.

“Drink this,” she instructed. “Slowly.” She added that last part with a rough sternness. So, I didn’t what she said. The drink tasted like… my great-grandmother’s Top Secret Recipe Cake, so like chocolate and mint with rainbow sprinkles added to the batter and backed into the cake. It gave me a warm feeling. I wanted to chug the whole glass down but before I could the girl wisely moved the straw out of my reach. She sat next to me as I faded back out of consciousness. 

The next time I work up the brunet was leaning up against the door talking to a husky blonde surfer looking dude who appeared to be completely covered in blue… eyes. That seemed to convince my body to go back to sleep. Thank God.

The last time I woke up was for good. I felt alive. Just barely alive. I seemed to no long have the wounds from the crash, which made me wonder how long I’d been going in-and-out. I had enough energy to get out of the bed and to my semi-numbed feet. 

After I stabled myself, I looked over to the corner of the room to see Epsilon slumped in a wicker chair. He fast asleep with a gaudy bright orange shirt reading “Camp Half-Blood” on. He wasn’t a goat boy anymore, just plain old dorky Epsilon. I got up and walked over to him, still a little sore. On closer inspection he had purple bruises on him pale upper body. Looking upon myself, I couldn’t find mine that I could have sworn were there… 

Being the patient, caring friend I am, I kicked him in the shin. With that he woke with a nice “OUCH!” He looked up to me and his pained expression turned to a joyous one. Through the pain, he jumped up and gave me a bear hug. It felt like a few awkward minutes passed before he finally let me go. 

“Thank the gods you’re ok!” he finally explained as he looked me over. “I mean, I knew you’d wake up but the egghead kept talking variables of survival and-” 

“Calm down…uh… goat boy?” I looked him over as his concern turned into slight anger.

“Well fuck, Carolina. ‘Goat’? Really? If you said that to anyone else your get bucked in the head. I’m a satyr. Satyr. Keep that in mind. Anyways-” 

My knees got weak again and I almost wobbled to the floor if Epsilon hadn’t grabbed me. He picked up a glass similar to the one that had the cake drink. He handed it to me and I took a large gulp.

“Careful there, ‘Lina!” He pulled the glass away before I could chug it all down. 

“Oh… Sorry… Did you want some?” I was confused as to why I should be careful about a liquid dessert thing. Apparently he didn’t because his face went paler than usual, and looked like a deer in headlights. Satyr in headlights? Whatever.

“Hell no! That’s Nectar; the food of the gods! If I drink that, well, you ever seen spontaneous combustion?” I shook my head. “Well, if you want a best friend gyro then by all means assist me in exploding myself.”

“Jesus, man! I’m sorry! …wait. Then how come I-”

“That will be explained soon just,” he sighed, “can you walk ok?” 

I nodded since I felt re-energized from the apparent death drink and carried my own weight. As Epsilon was about to say something while stepping forward, he cut himself short as he fumbled over something. We both looked down to see one of his shoes, filled with Styrofoam, and his hoof showing itself. 

Letting out a loud groan, Epsilon mumbled, “Styx! Fucking, shoes,” as he wedged his satyr foot into the foam filled shoe. Calming himself down, he opened the door to the room and gestured for me to exit. “Come on, we gotta get you to Mr. D.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. Thank fucking God we finally got here! Now I can finally start all these stupid ideas I've got raddling in my head. Next chapter is meeting Mr. D and some of the centaur councilors as well as meeting some of the other campers. Hope y'all enjoy it and constructive criticism is always appreciated.


	3. My Life is Apparently Only Worth 20 Drachma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carolina gets to meet some of the staff, campers, as well as her new half-siblings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In advance, I apologize for any incorrect spelling or grammatical error. My proofreader/editor is out of town for the week.  
> Only warnings would be language but what the fuck do you expect. It's RvB. Shit get said.

It turned out that I’d been cooped up in a farmhouse all this time. The porch of the building wrapped all the way around. I was still having a little trouble being up on my feet. Epsilon offered his shoulder for me to lean on but I told him I could handle myself. Knowing him, it would be more strain on him verse just me on my own. We walked around to the front of the house. I assumed we were on the Long Island northern shore, because by the side of the building was a valley marched all the way up to the water. That’s all I could recognize as normal though. Greek architecture was scattered around the camp; an open-air pavilion, an amphitheater, a circular arenas. It all looked like it all had been built recently, not like you’d expect when seeing ancient buildings. 

The most modern thing I could spot was a group of satyrs and high-school aged well-built blonde kids playing volleyball. They were all wearing the same orange shirt as Epsilon, which made me somewhat dread the unspoken fact that I’d probably have to wear one too… 

Kids in canoes traveled across the lake. Others shot arrows at an archery range. Some were riding horses on a dirt trail and I could have sworn a few of them had wings. I just chalked that up to my aching head. Then again, at this point I was almost willing to believe anything…

Down at the end of the porch, two men sat at a card table across from one another. The man facing me was small but porky. He looked like if a cherub became a tired old college frat boy who dropped out but still had that day-after hangover. He had curly almost purple hair, big watery eyes, and a cherry tomato like nose. The tiger stripped shirt he wore just proved my point about his image. I’d expect him to be drinking far before “happy hour”, but the only can of anything I saw next to him was a Diet Coke. 

“The sober one is the camp director, Mr. D,” Epsilon explained. “You’d better tread lightly when talking to him. He, uh, yeah he isn’t someone you want to piss off.” He pointed to the guy whose back was facing us. “That’s one of the camp’s head councilors… You, um, already know-”

“You son of a bitch!” It took me long enough to recognize the man in front of me. I felt stupid not noticing the wheel chair he sat in parked clear as day on the porch. With my outburst, Dr. Church turned his torso to meet me face to face. 

“Hello, Carolina. Glad to see you’re up and well,” he said genuinely happy to see my progress in health, as well as greeting me with a warm smile. I didn’t care though. I was too pissed off. Epsilon put his hand on my shoulder, however, to warn me to cool off. He glanced his gaze over at the bloodshot eyed man who was now glaring at us with a not-so-pleased expression, and the satyr give me a “calm the fuck down” look. I took the hint and tried to keep it in. For now.

After an awkward moment of my clearly ruining the mood, the cherub guy spoke up. “Well,” he gave a deep sigh, “I might as well get it over with. *Ahem.* Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. There. I did it. Now back to the game.” He sounded as disinterested as I was confused and angry. 

Even though my ex-teacher and the camp director got back to their card game, what I later learned was pinochle, the wheel chair bound councilor still kept up a conversation. “I assume you have plenty of questions, Carolina.” That was an understatement. I had too many to count! But the only thing I could manage to say was, “So you work here too?”

Mentally, I face palmed.

He just let out a small chuckle and replied, “My teacher career is only a cover, though I assure you I earned that degree to my title. I’m one of the councilors and secondary deputy director when Mr. D is away, although that happens rarely.” 

“I’d give you or Chiron the job in an instant,” the other man mumbled as he played his cards.

Ignoring the director Dr. Church continued with his explanation. “Chiron, one of my fellow, well, centaurs is the head councilor. He’s in charge of the training mostly, but tends to handle more diplomatic aspects of the camp’s affairs. You’ll meet him soon enough. We have another councilor named Aiden who in charge of more of the psychological dealings with the campers… Am I loosing you already?”

All I could do was nod.

“I should have known better… Epsilon.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Escort Carolina inside and show her the welcome film.”

And that was that for the time being. 

The satyr guiding me back to the farmhouse’s front entrance and into a cozy living area. He sat me down onto a beat up red carpet sofa and put a VHS tape into the player hooked up to the TV. 

As it began, I started having flashbacks to those stupid late ‘80s/early ‘90s videos they played in drivers ed, but instead of a sassy black guy talking about the dangers of not watching the goddamn road it was a half-man with a kickass beard. A cheesy intro text showed under the centaur (half-man, half-horse) reading “Chiron, Trainer of Heroes”. Then it was eight crammed minutes of explaining what the fuck was going on. 

The rough draft was that I, and every single kid at this camp, was a happy accident of one of the Greek gods of myth. But they weren’t a myth, they were all real. Monsters like hell hounds (which was apparently what we had been attacked by on the way to camp), Cyclopes, and the like are constantly trying kill us because we smell like godliness? And also we hadn’t been the first to have these troubles. Examples of famous “myths” and legends of Greek heroes (our distant cousins/siblings) were referenced as well as the dangers we would eventually face. It was a lot to take in but from what I had experienced, in what I could only assume was the past few days, it made a whole hell of a lot of sense. Goat boys, horse with wings, horse men, children of gods.  
Fine. Sure. I was just so done. 

It did have some pretty nice explanations for some of my personal challenges. My ADHD was actually a warriors’ survival instinct. It was my body being on constant alert of danger and on edge of when to defend myself. My dyslexia was summed up to my brain being hardwired ancient Greek. It wasn’t excusing serious conditions, but rather explaining what the hell was actually wrong with me personally. It was actually really informative in a positive way. And added to the fact that my life was just that more screwed over by being a “child of the gods”. 

When it was all over Epsilon switched off the video. “So,” he began. “How you taking it all in? Any questions? Well, what am I saying? Of course you do. To make it easier, what’s your first question?”

I just blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “So, who’s my dad?” 

That made Epsilon make a weird ‘I really don’t want to answer this’ kind of face. “Well, uh, how it works is that you have to get claimed by your respective parent. If not, you get stuck in Cabin 11 which is the Hermes cabin. He’s the god of travelers and all so it’s basically were you bunk up until, or if you ever, get claimed.”

“So how do you get claimed exactly?” I asked while looking up at the ceiling, imagining if the gods were watching now.

“It’s different depending on the god. Like, with this one kid who was a child of Aphrodite, he claimed by having a giant pink heart appearing above his head as ‘Push It’ by Salt n Pepper played out of nowhere. It was pretty weird… Well, not for him because he thought it was fucking epic, but for the rest of us it was uncomfortable as fuck. But then again, seeing as some of them never really come down from Olympus, dramatics tend to be a big pastime. Anyways, you, uh, kinda already got claimed. You remember when the night we brought you to camp?” 

“I killed a giant monster and saved your furry ass.”

“Well, technically yes. But after you passed out and before we dragged YOUR fat ass down here, you were claimed by… well, you were claimed by Ares.”

“That’s the god of war, right?”

“Yeah... The thing about that attack the other night was that you shouldn’t have been able to fight at all, much less actually win! You should have gone down fighting a losing battle like-,” he stopped himself from finished that sentence. “You were given good favor on the battlefield. In that moment, you were claimed by your father when he gave you, for an instant, the fighting spirit of the warriors of old. Long, hard to explain story short, you got an adrenalin shot and killed a rabid puppy. You’re a natural born warrior, ‘Lina.”

I couldn’t help but smirk. Despite his less than pleasant wording of that last part about the puppy, I felt pretty proud of myself. But, Epsilon still had a bit of a worried expression. Before I could ask him what was wrong, he asked me to follow him and that he would show me to my cabin.

 

We left what I later learned was called the Big House and made our way to the campgrounds. Soon enough, campers surrounded us as they passed by, giving only slight glances before just caring on with whatever. Getting a better look at everyone, I noticed that they were mostly either my age or way younger. Kids from about six and seven to up in late teens ran around like someone had spilt a cart of tangerines. Some were clad in bronze armor plates and helmets, while others carried around bows and quivers or had swords strapped to their sides. It was definitely not what you’d expect to see at a summer camp. Weill, unless you’re training to be a fucking gladiator.

Epsilon showed me the camp a little as we made are way around. I got to see the obstacle course that would make the military basic training look like a playground at McDonalds (they had a climbing walls that collapsed into each other and oozed real lava). He pointed out the woods where they played capture the flag on Fridays, and the shoreline were some water activates were held. I saw the strawberry fields were they, “make a decent cover for the camp as well as a decent profit.” A boy and a girl who looked around my age, both super tan and the guy being more on the tubby side, picking strawberries. Epsilon pointed them out to be the rarity known as Mr. D’s kids. Putting together the director’s hungover look and the connection with agriculture, I kinda figured out from there who exactly which god our councilor turned out to be. I was going to say something about it but Epsilon stopped me short. “Words, especially names, have great power,” he said. He also promise to tell me later what that meant and why he was here instead of with the other gods, but for right now the “queen bitch” of camp was waiting for me.

I didn’t get to see everything in the camp, however, before we made our way over to a large “U” of cabins. Each one was decorated and modeled uniquely. The first two cabins we came across were elegant in design, but had a deserted, empty feeling surrounding them.

“Honorary cabins,” Epsilon explained. “Cabin 2 is in honor of Hera. Being as she’s the goddess of marriage, it would look bad if she had kids with someone other than her husband. Hera doesn't ‘run around having affairs with mortals.’ That is… uh… her husband's job.”

“So, I’m guessing Cabin 1 is Z- uh, the king of the gods then?” I assumed as I stared at the huge eagle carved into the stone roof of the cabin. 

“Yep.”

“So why no kids? I mean, isn’t he like the god of ‘not keeping it in his pants or something? Wouldn’t there be at least a dozen or two…”

“You would think that, but ever since WWII the Big Three decided it was too dangerous to have such powerful half-bloods walking around.”

“Big Three?” I looked at the satyr for some elaboration. Then again I had to ask myself “why not ask about WWII?”, but I had a feeling that was more of a story than a quick answer. 

“The most powerful gods; Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades. You’ll have time to learn up on all the bad blood later… Speaking of the god of the seas,” he pointed over to the next cabin. It looked like a quaint fishing lodge but smaller (considering it was just a cabin). “It used to be just honorary,” he continued, “That is, until a while back. Then Leonard came along…,” he got a slightly bitter look on his face. But just as suddenly as he grimaced, his face turned into a wicked smile. “But then Michael got claimed. Hehe. That was a fun day. Anyways, you’ll have the misfortune of meeting them later.”

With that we passed by another cabin (Cabin 4, Demeter) and walked up to mine; Cabin 5, Ares. Epsilon stuck his arm out in front of my chest and scanned the ground surrounding it. He looked like he was searching for loose change or like he dropped his keys. Letting out a sigh, the satyr glared at the deep red building. I could see why he would be cautious. There was a boar head pinned up above the doorway, that I could swear its eyes were following us. Plus the barbwire that twisted around everything wasn’t very inviting.

“Yo, Tex!” Epsilon yelled over the blaring punk rock music coming from the cabin. Just then, the blonde girl, whom I remembered taking care of me, stepped onto the porch. Getting a better look at her, it felt like I was looking into one of those funhouse mirrors. You know, the kind that show you slightly differently. Not the ones that make you look tall and skinny or short and fat, but like the ones that make you look older… 

Her hair, although it being a different color, was long and styled just like mine. The way she stood and presented herself was all too familiar to my own. And her face. It was eerily similar to mine. Adding on three or four years but still… Then again, after the whole “children of the gods” thing set back into my mind the whole ‘shock’ faded fast. I soon noticed our striking differences.

Her body was extremely well built. I couldn’t see any fat on her, just a wall of muscle. Muscle and tattoos. The sleeves of her camp shirt had been torn off, displaying “guns” of steel. Her right arm proudly showed off a tattoo; the state of Texas filled in pitch black. The blonde’s cut-off jean shorts also displayed a Greek border tattoo circling her upper left thigh. Something told me that wasn’t the only ink she had done, but I honestly didn’t care.

“Welcome to the world of the living, Carolina,” the older girl chuckled. It didn’t question her knowing my name. My best guess was that pretty much they found out from either Epsilon or Dr. Church. 

She quickly turned back after her greeting towards the inside of the cabin. “You cockbites owe me twenty drachma!” 

A collective groan came from a small chorus inside. She bore a pleased expression until she met eyes with me. I’m glad she picked up on my “pissed off bitch face” I was proudly emoting. 

“Oh um… I had complete faith you would, um, that you would totally survive. I mean a hell hound isn’t a match for a child of Ares. Not by a long shot- you know what. Fuck it. I’m not all for the sappy stuff.” She came down the steps to where we were standing in front of the cabin. Epsilon slowly stepped back with his eyes plastered to the ground. It was as if he was expecting something to happen. Noticing this, the girl called Tex paused mid-step which made the satyr flinch. Tex put her foot down and nothing happening, well, all except Epsilon running like hell away from the cabin. 

Letting out a strong laugh Tex explained, “There are land mines surrounding the place. Just a nice extra protection from the dumbasses from Apollo and their pranks. At least those Athena bastards are smart enough to steer clear, but those blonde idiots still seem to find a way…” I drowned her out a bit as I tried hard not to get blown up. Thinking kind of logically and strategically about the best places to plant explosives around a building, I made it to the front door alive.

“…Maine was rhyming for over a week, which was pretty fucking hilarious considering he doesn’t talk much. But anyways,” Tex opened the door wide. “Welcome to the best cabin.” The room was filled with more muscular teens and some younger kids, of course, wearing the same camp T-shirt. Some had them torn up like Tex’s, but others seemed to just dye them blood red.  
Tattoos seemed to be semi the norm, as an older bald teen had an intricate scalp tattoo intermingling different Greek letters. Another had ones that I could only describe as a mix between Asian and tribal. Scattered around were maybe some anchors and phrases in ancient Greek, which I could somehow completely understand. 

The other thing I noticed right off the bat was that they were all either working out in some way (I think one chick was doing inverted pushups), or keeping up maintenance on weapons like knives or spears. I also noticed that among the piles of clothes and sweaty teens, there was no God- sorry, gods-awful smell. It was later explained that had something to do with a “fresh air” or whatever charm. Magic. Or something. 

Anyways, Tex led me to an empty lower bunk where my stuff had already been dumped, as well as a neatly folded camp shirt next to the pillow on the bed. She told me to unpack whatever and she would meet me in the dining pavilion. So, as a good number of my… siblings, I guess? Well, a good number of them filed out behind her as I was left almost alone in the room. Only the bald guy with the killer tattoo, an older looking teen (maybe almost twenty) with gray(?) hair who had been one of the few to dye his shirt red, and a guy with a fucked up scared face were left. They didn’t say much. Just stuck to what they were doing respectively to the order of mention; cleaning a knife, taking notes on what could only be seen as blueprints, and glaring at me intently as I unpacked… I didn’t get a chance to ask what the fuck that was about before scarface got down from the top bunk he had been perched in and began to leave the cabin like the others.

“We made more than one bet you know,” he said as he stopped half way. “Tex may have said you would survive and I did too. But, I also said you wouldn’t even make it through the summer. So,” he looked back at me dead in the eyes, “try not to disappoint me.” Before I could say to him what the fuck he meant by that he exclaimed, “Oh yeah. Speaking of bets…” He put out his hand towards the face of the bald guy. With an almost unnatural groan, the other guy forked over a handful of gold coins. “Keep in mind, sister, I actually thought you’d make it this far.” And with that, he was out the door.

With an awkward few seconds of silence I finally was able to say what I was thinking. “What the hell, man?!” All I got was a shrug.

“Don’t mind ol’ Maine over there, lil’ lady,” the older guy intervened. “To be perfectly honest it wasn’t you he was betting against. It was that Furry Feet who brought ya here.”

“You mean Epsilon?”

“Yeah… He don’t have the best track record when it comes bringing in campers… The last one he dragged in only made it with half a leg, no eyebrows, and five-eighths of his organs. Lucky for him, those Apollo healers and that ambrosia fixed him right up. That and the Hephaestus cabin got him some metal leg. And organs.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah. And don’t be too hard on Terrence either. He’s just bitter about some personal experiences that we don’t like to get into… Now then, let’s all go grab some grub. The rest of the cabin are waiting on us.”

We all got up to head out, Maine held the door open for us. We made it halfway to the open-air dining pavilion before I asked something I probably should have asked a hell of a lot earlier. “So, um, what’s you name again?”

The red shirted camper stopped and faced me. Letting out a little chuckle, he held out his hand for mine to shake. As I complied, he replied by introducing himself. “My apologies for not sayin’ sooner. The name’s Sarge.”

What.

“What?”

“It’s Sarge.”

“Is it a nickname or short for something?”

“Nope.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Ya know I don’t know why people keep asking that…”

With that we traveled on to our dinner. The pavilion had no walls or ceiling. It was just a border of Greek columns with torches on them, fire blazing, lighting up the area. It was filled with long tables with benches with campers filling up the seats, as well as a front table where the director and the centaur counselors sat. Some tables more full than others. All of the Ares cabin seemed to be at one table. Same went for the rest; a bunch of really attractive kids that all seemed to have the same oddly attractive air around them gossiping, a group of messy kids covered in oil and grease stains with blueprints and notes scattered around the plates of food, and others like that. Basically like a high school cafeteria. There was one table overflowing with campers, were I noticed the brunet with the scar was sitting. Most of the others he was eating with looked a lot like him, while a good number looked like all kinds of different types of kids. I guessed that was the Hermes table from what Epsilon had told me. There was an Asian girl cutting her fruit into precisely even slices and then using honey to paste them together, to a scrawny blonde guy who was picking at his food and seemed to look absolutely miserable. The two kids from the strawberry field, as well as another boy, sat and pretty much lounged about at their own table which was pretty full with food. Then there was just a table seating only two; a grouchy looking kid with nerdy glasses and a… cyclops. The glasses kid looked really pissed off as the other, who had made a small city out of his cheese cubes, proceeded to pour a “typhoon” of lemonade on top of it making little screaming noises of the imaginary town’s people being flooded in. It was kind of cute in a weird kind of way.

I made my way to our table and sat in between Sarge and Maine. A wood nymph (this just keeps getting better) placed plates full of barbeque, grapes, apples, strawberries, cheese, and fresh bread. There were empty cups in front of us as well. As I looked around to see where to get a drink, Sarge chuckled noticing my confusion.

“You gotta do it like this,” he instructed. Clearing his throat, he spoke to his glass, “Strawberry Yoo-Hoo.” Suddenly the once empty cup with filled with the beverage. “See. Basically just say any drink that ain’t alcohol,” he leaned in closely, “unless you’re Mr. D and forget you’re cut off. Then it’s Diet Coke. No one except him drinks Diet Coke.” He then made a pretty lame joke about usually he would drink the ‘blood of his enemies’, and then basically played it off as somewhat serious. But I called bullshit on that.  
Taking into account what I had been told, I tried it out with something simple; Coca-Cola. And it did worked. Except it didn’t have quite the same taste to it… Probably didn’t add the stomach corroding acids that give it that destructively addictive value.

Before I dug in, Sarge stopped me and pointed over to a large bronze bowl the size of a bathtub that sat in the middle of the pavilion. It had a great flame burning inside it. We walked over to it and I saw my half-sibling throw in some of his barbeque, saying a little prayer to himself as the food went up in smoke. He then told me it was an offering up to our parents, or any of the other gods for that matter. So, I decided to try it.

“Um,” I tried to think of a prayer or whatever. “Thanks for not letting me die, I guess…,” I thanked in my head. I tossed in some of my grapes and a bit of pulled pork. It disappeared into the fire as it emitted a sweet smelling smoke. 

The rest of the night was just me eating and chatting with my new family. After food was campfire sing-a-long hosted by the Apollo campers. It was mostly hymns of how great Apollo was/is and some older war tunes. There were marshmallows to burn and s’mores to build, so it wasn’t too bad.

I went with my siblings back to the cabin after that and we all piled into out beds. Tex slept in only her underwear, as did several others, Sarge snored like a grizzly bear, and for some reason I didn’t mind any of it at all. It felt kind of… homely. For the first time in a long time (aside from my near death experience), I had a decent night's sleep. I felt safe surrounded by what I could truly call actual family. And, you know what, I even almost forgave them for betting on my life. Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally made it! Next chapter is going to be something I'm exponentially looking forward to writing. Hopefully y'all enjoyed this one and thanks for those who have been sticking with me and these crazy updates. Until next time~
> 
> Your Floralist of Ninja,  
> Reba The Mermaid *glub glub motherfucker*


	4. Red Team, Blue Team, and Capture the Flag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long for this chapter to come out. Also sorry for how short it is. With my busy work schedule, its hard to find the time to write. But here is finally is. Hope y'all enjoy.

The next few days went by pretty quickly. Epsilon started teaching me more about Greek “mythology” and about my new life as a human target. Apparently I had monsters trying to kill me since I was young. Looking back on it, it was kind of obvious; one-eyed figures trying to abduct me off the playground in kindergarten, seeing somewhat monstrous things either stalking me or presumably trying to kill me. I knew that bus driver in third grade was trying to run me over. Not to mention when happened before I got here; attacked by a giant and rushed by a hellhound. 

He also told me more about my father. I learned about my ancient brothers and sisters, dad’s current (centuries old) affair with Aphrodite, Sparta and cult puppy sacrifices, and many more fun things. I was lucky that I was at least on good terms with my siblings. Well, we weren’t killing each other. I later learned that butting heads with kids from Apollo, Athena, and any other cabins that pissed us off happened on a regular basis. Though most of the fighting happened in group training. Over the course of the past few days, I learned that I’m pretty good with a spear. I could chuck as far as the world record at full force. The world record for men anyways. It was around the average for my cabin though.

Besides training and history lessons (which paid off considering I can say “gods” and such without it sounding weird), I was having sessions with Counselor Aiden. Or rather just A session. The first time was mandatory but the rest was an open-door policy kind of thing. As long as you signed in, he would talk to you about anything and everything. I spent around half an hour wait for my session because some kid from Athena was apparently giving his life story. He apparently comes to see the centaur a lot. But when the time finally came I just kind of told him stuff. Answered questions. Nothing too big. I learned I really didn’t want to talk about emotional things. 

Other than that was basic-ish camp stuff; arts and crafts like making weapons and getting a nice fitted bronze breastplate, learning to ride Pegasus, and of course building relationships with my fellow campers. And what better way to do that than the annual Friday night game of capture the flag. 

It was just like regular capture the flag. There are two teams, usually lead by Ares and Athena (by usually I mean almost every Friday considering the Trojan War and all), consisting of members from different cabins. The only reason you wouldn’t be playing is if you were injured or sick. Or from Cabin 10. The Aphrodite kids seemed to work better at cheering rather than fighting. That and apparently a “broken nail” is considered a major injury. 

The rules were pretty simple; all the forest is considered fair game, the creek in the middle of the area is the border between “enemy lines”, the flags must be on full display and teams’ flag’s guards can’t be within ten yards of it, all magical items are accepted, etc., etc. Killing and maiming were absolutely NOT allowed. But, such actions were punishable by, and I quote, “the loss of one week’s dessert.” You could also take prisoners and even disarm them, but they can’t be retrained or gagged. Although, there have been times, from what Tex has told me, that she reeeeaaallllly wanted to too just shut up a few of the campers. Particularly one of the few Aphrodite kids who actually played. “Lucky for us,” she said, “he’s on the other team, so as long as he’s not in more than one piece, we can ruff him up as much as we like. But leave Seaweed Specs to me… I got a score to settle.” And by that, she meant that she was gonna kick her boyfriend’s ass for [insert any possible reason here]. They were the captains for each team. Normally one of the Athena kids would take charge, but considering they had the son of the god of the fucking rivers, oceans, and earthquakes on their team, it made sense for their powerhouse to be in command. Considering he was the only known kid of the Big Three, they used that to their famous Athena brand strategic planning; use the powerhouse as bait and use stealth to snag the flag while everyone else is fighting. At least they would if they hadn’t already. Twice. That month. The unofficial Red Team Rule #1, never let Sarge take charge. Rule #2 was never get near Butch Flowers from Demeter Cabin when he has Greek fire. EVER. 

Rule #1 wasn’t going to be an issue for this game however. For some unknown reason, Sarge was displaying the world’s worse acting and claimed to have “pulled a hammy” and would stay in the cabin doing “things”. No one really minded as long as we followed Tex’s strategy without any interference. Unlike the past few times, the team leader was going to give Blue Team a taste of their own medicine. And it was gonna burn them like too much ambrosia. 

The competition was going to be pretty fierce. Since there were quite a few cabins not too happy with Ares, Athena had a few of the tougher competitors such as Apollo and Hermes. So we were outmatched in long distance attacks and natural athleticism, as well as outnumbered by the assortment of extras the cabin of travelers kept. Not to mention, Demeter Cabin which gave them more of a field advantage since plants, and they happened to have a cyclops as one of their guards. You’d think that would make the flag easier to find but the trees even towered over the one-eyed, six foot tall “kid”. The only things we had on our side were Hephaestus Cabin and their toys, and MAYBE Dionysus’s kids. That gave us more magic weaponry and some kind of advantage over nature but not by much. Plus there were only three from the grapevine cabin and they weren’t exactly the fittest fiddles in the orchestra. Even with our odds, the motto for the evening was “win at all cost or die trying, because if you lose you’re better off dead.” Brutal, I know, but what can I say, if anything our competitive nature gets the best of us. 

 

Our flag was stationed at an area called Zeus’s Fist which was basically a huge pile of boulders in the middle of the west wood. The plan was simple enough, one decoy party would distract Blue Team believing we would have our usual frontal assault, but in actuality Tex would lead another group the opposite direction to take them by surprise. If all went well, Tex’s group would snag the flag and dart back to the boundary line, winning the game for Red Team. 

Terrence took some of the stronger Ares and Hephaestus members while Tex took Maine and the counselor of Cabin 9 (Hephaestus) who happened to be a decent sprinter. Cabin 12 (Dionysus), some of the other Hephaestus kids including a scrawny looking girl name Katie Jenson, and myself were left on watch as well as scouting around the ‘base.’. The horn was soon blown, indicating the game had begun, and Terrence’s group made their way into the forest. After waiting a few seconds Tex’s group dashed the opposite direction as fast as they could. 

A few minutes went by and I soon realized how boring watch duty really was. Dexter Grif, the counselor of Cabin 12, fell asleep under a nearby tree. His sister who happened to have the same mother as him, Kaikaina, kept complaining about how her chest plate was too tight and ended up taking it off (revealing that she goes commando up top, and according to her also down below). Antoine Bitters, their other sibling, ended up snaking on some berries he made grow using his Chlorokinesis. The only person who I could even talk to, and I kind of wish I didn’t, was Katie who was all too happy about explaining how to build a chariot from just scrap metal. And believe me, it was a very long process. I seemed to be the only one doing my job and actually looking out for the enemy. But all I saw were trees. And rocks. And Katie choke on her own spit. Twice. 

I’d caught glimpse of Terrence and his group running through the clearing, with campers in blue feathered helmets in pursuit. They were successfully leading them away from Tex and company. Everything looked like it was going according to plan. That is until I saw a group of Blue campers coming towards Tex and the others in an ambush. There was no way that they could get past them without a somewhat lengthy fight. Blue Team had seen right through our strategy. My instinct was kicking in at this point. With most of the stronger players leading the two groups, they would have they forces divided about the same. That meaning, the flag would be hardly guarded at all (and probably like ours, would have some of the weakest on standby). 

There was no way Tex would make it in time before having to take out half the opposing obstacle, even with Maine who had kicked major ass in training (particularly with his sword). So, I decided to take the opportunity while we had it. I picked up Grif’s shield that he had propped up in front of him as a canopy, and pulled up one of the swords that had been speared into the ground (one of the younger Hephaestus kids got really bored from the waiting). I got ready to make a run for it.

“Can you handle it here?” I turned back to Katie, interrupting whatever mechanical jargon she was spouting.

“Well I guess so- wait what?! But Tex told us not to move! I’m sure she and the others can handle it- Hey! Wait!” Katie yelled as he tried to stop me. I didn’t hear her say “no” so I took off. I wasn’t going to waste this opportunity. Being able to say, “Yeah, I won my very first capture the flag. No big deal,” had a nice ring to it. Winning in general wasn’t bad either.

I made it a good ways into the wood and even made it as far as just past the river boundary. But, as soon as I got a few feet into enemy territory, I rammed straight into one of the kids from the Athena cabin. I hit him so hard his helmet flew off. That made it easier to tell that he was from Athena; blonde hair (more of a salt-and-pepper kind of coloring with a poofy blonde fluff on top), grey eyes that showed brightly in the moon lit night, and deep purple under his eyes (most likely from staying up late with nerdy stuff like advanced placement summer reading or something). I rushed past him as fast as I could before I heard him call out into the distance for reinforcements. 

The flag was in sight. And so was Tex. She was fighting through a group of Blue soldiers when she saw me. Her face turned pale. And then it turned redder than the feathers on top her helmet.

“What the FUCK are you doing?!” she called out as she punched a Hermes camper in the gut and disarmed him. I ignored her though and made my way for the flag. I was so close. I was just a few feet away. A few steps. I even had it in hand. But I didn’t make it even five feet before I got tackled by a Hermes camper. The same camper who had who had helped protect my life getting here was now pinning me down to the ground, and ripped the flag out of my hand.

“Sorry, hot stuff. All’s far in love and war,” he smirked as he looking into my eyes with his good one. It made him almost look handsome. Too bad I ruined that by punching him square in the nose. I thought it would give me a chance to snag back the flag, but it was already too late. The horn blew, meaning that the game was over. Blue Team had won. Also meaning, we had lost. The kid who had captured the flag had been from Hermes (haha god of thieves and shit), and seemed to love gloating because he happily showed off his win to any Red Team member he saw. He stopped however when his eyes met with his brother with the bloody nose.

“Oh shit, York!” he laughed. “Who fucked up your face? I mean more than it already was.” The one he called York didn’t seem to mind his insults and began laughing himself. York glanced at me and then they made a few jokes about how aggressive Ares women were. I didn’t really have time to know if that was offensive of not, because seconds late Tex stormed over to me and proved their point. My older sister picked me up by the collar and held me to her eye level. At least I want on the ground anymore. But, I was a few inches off the ground. 

“What did I fucking tell you? ‘Stay and guard the flag.’ I didn’t say ‘run out like a dumbass and grab it’, now did I?”

“No,” I mumbled.

“That was rhetorical, idiot! You think Jensen or either of the Grifs could handle an Apollo archer or even an Aphrodite kid? The answer is a big fucking NO. I needed you there, Carolina!”

“You were surrounded! They knew it was a distraction! You wouldn’t have made it in time before they did exactly what they did; Took OUR fucking flag before you even got to theirs! I took the opportunity I was given!”

“And you failed! I AM CAPTAIN. I AM CABIN COUSELOR. AND WHEN I TELL YOU TO DO SOMETHING YOU BETTER FUCKING DO IT. DO YOU HEAR ME?”

“That is ENOUGH, Texas,” a voice came from behind the angry Ares girl. Dr. Church put his hand on her shoulder and gave her a look. That seemed to calm her enough to put me down gently while showing an expression of regret for having gone a little too far over just a game. I wasn’t as forgiving though. I kept staring her down with the most rage induced look I could muster. What I had learned growing up was that if you showed even a little weakness or forgiveness, or even backed down slightly, you would never get any stronger. I wasn’t going to take shit from her. Not even if she was my sister. Especially since she was my sister. 

The rest of the night went as well as you’d expect. That York guy got taken to the Big House to get fixed up, the Blue Team celebrated, and I did my damnedest to avoid a person I was forced to live in the same cabin with. It turned out Tex was also my bunkmate so it took a lot more effort than I initially imagined. It was at that moment I realized this was going to be an agonizingly long summer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I based this one more off the third book's capture the flag vs. the first's only because it fit better with how I wanted to set up the beginning of Carolina and Tex's relationship. 
> 
> You may have noticed I call people by first names a bit or by "nicknames" they go by. That's just easier for me to write (I'll probably do more last name stuff once I introduce the two Franks). I hope that doesn't trip anyone up.  
> Try and guess who captured the flag? ;)
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope y'all are enjoying my work as much as I enjoy writing it! 
> 
> Your Floralist of Ninjas,  
> Reba The Mermaid


	5. The Bitch, the Flying Ace, and the Dad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while... yeah so I've kind of been abandoning this 'baby' for mine for a while and now that RvB 14 is rolling around I'll try to update it more. I've been working on a lot of RWBY fics and still plan on pumping out chapters and fluff pieces but I'll do my best to dedicate a good portion of my free time to this.

The next day was just horrible. I hadn’t gotten any sleep in fear that one of my siblings would kill me if I even nodded off. So due to that, I got my ass handed to me in training and my eyebrows got burned off at the lava wall. One of the Aphrodite kids helped pencil me in some new ones. I sweat them off pretty quickly though, and they were itchy so they smeared anyways when I scratched. In the end, I just put on a hat to distract from the lack of upper facial hair. 

I had a pounding headache. And I had a feeling they wouldn’t just give me ambrosia for something as ‘small’ as that. It was mostly due to a lovely mix of Katie apologizing to me about not being able to defend the flag, and Tex nagging me about every little fucking thing imaginable. That blonde bitch hadn’t stopped riding my ass for a second and it was driving me crazy. But the main cause was a certain jackass from Hermes bragging his ass off.

Felix Gates. That fucking elf. It didn’t help that his pointed ears made him look more devilish than “mischievous” (which is pretty good at describing the Hermes kids) which irked me, but he also just wouldn’t shut up. His spiky brown and orange hair that looked like a can of spray paint exploded next to it found a way to royally piss me off. Like a baby hedgehog that had been set on fire, with the sides shaved into a dumb looking faux-hawk. And his tribal tattoos- don’t even get me started. They looked so tacky, covering his arms like sleeves. The only one that wasn’t tribal was a scythe with “ζεις μόνο μία φορά” bordering the blade. Since I could apparently read Greek, it basically meant “YOLO”. How “macho” can a 5’3 guy get?

It didn’t help that he had assistance in his gloating. Lavernius Tucker from Aphrodite Cabin added a special annoying confidence in his relishing of their victory. It was hard to stay mad at him though. For some reason I couldn’t help but find him attractive. His medium black hair dreaded back into a ponytail with aqua strands scattered throughout, his toasted brown skin that looked like freshly brewed coffee, his deep hazel eyes you could get lost in- That “goddess of love vibe” his mother blessed him with was too strong for comfort. But, not strong enough for me not to punch him in the gut when he would use the worst pickup lines in the history of ever. Apparently, his “fatal flaw” was that he COULD attract women easily… that is, until he opened his big mouth. He was like a more adult and less scrawny Steve Urkel.

The other two who were with them, Samuel ‘Locus’ Ortez who was an unclaimed cabin member of Hermes, and the salt-and-pepper kid they kept calling Wash, stood by and listened to them go on and on. Locus, as he liked to called, had apparently had a big part in the Blue Team’s win. He and Felix were kind of the power team of the cabin, seeing as usually only Locus could tolerate Felix at times. They had apparently been a two man team in capturing Red Team’s flag; sneaking past the other groups, as well as easily overpowering the guards (which made me regret abandoning my post. But I wasn’t going to let Tex know that). I couldn’t really see him well since you never saw him without his dark green hoodie covering his face. I couldn’t understand how he could stand wearing that thing during the summer, even with the magical barrier around the camp making it a nice sunny day with a cool breeze. 

Wash, although not looking like much, had a hand in their victory as well. He had the dumb luck of standing in my way. With that, he’d apparently been able to warn York, who then tackled me down. Although we were supposed to be “feuding”, I didn’t really hate the Athena kid. He looked more miserable being with his friends at the current moment than he normally did in general. I’d seen him around once or twice in the days leading up to the game; in the dining pavilion at his cabin’s table drinking from his glass with a silly curly straw, doing inverted pushups with the head of Athena Cabin Vanessa Kimball, and getting onto Lavernius when he was being a complete ass. Sadly, he wasn’t doing that last one at the moment. All he and Locus could do was roll their eyes and listen to their friends keep on bragging.  
After about five minutes of non-stop chattering being in my earshot, I managed to find a louder noise to drown them out. Too bad for me it was the sound of two girls bitching at the top of their lungs. It was coming from over the hill near the boundary of the camp,

“Why the FUCK did you not tell your own godsdamned FATHER you can’t drive a fucking stick shift!!!” came one of the voices. Three teens came into sight. They were still very far away but I could tell that the other one of them was a guy who looked eerily similar to one of the girls. “You should have just showed some fucking humility and admitted you can’t do at least one thing! He could have transformed it into one of those shitty drivers’ ed cars or a minivan or some lame dad shit!”

“Will you just shut the FUCK UP already, Eddy?! Gods, you are such a bit-!”

Eddy, as she was called, pushed the other girl down the hill. Having been unprepared for the tumble, she rolled down the incline less than gracefully. She reminded me of a sack of potatoes being chucked down a flight of stairs. She yelled profanities the whole way down, as the guy they were with chased after her. 

“Looks like the twins and 479er came back from their quest,” Tex came up from behind me with her arms crossed. It took a second for everyone to notice the three’s arrival back to camp but soon enough half the campers ran up to greet them. 

“Who are those guys?” I cautiously asked my sibling. 

“The one going down the hill is Alecia Dakota from Apollo Cabin, and the one running after her is Alec. If you can’t guess, they’re twins,” Tex pointed towards the two blonds who had finally made it to the bottom of the incline. The boy Alec tried to help his sister up from the grass, but she smacked his hand away and fumbled to her feet. “The smartass, in a good why mind you, is Lee Eddy from Hermes Cabin. Everyone but the centaurs call her Eddy or 479er. She’s the ‘ace’ of camp.” 

Lee Eddy had a sunkissed tan and choppy black and blue hair. She was slender like most of the Hermes kids and had those trademark pointed ears. Her siblings all rushed to her as well as a few other campers including Tucker. The same could be said about the twins who were surrounded by children of Apollo and a few other campers. I saw Alecia punch Maine hard in the gut with him refusing to budge from the impact. He just looked at her with a deadpan expression before patting her on the head. She hit him again, this time a little lower.

It wasn’t long before the Counselors, Dr. Church, one I assumed to be Aiden, and the centaur from the video called Chiron, joined the crowd and led the three banged up campers to the Big House. The commotion died down and I was finally able to find someone to explain some more stuff to me. Luckily, it was Epsilon. 

Basically those three had just come back from a quest, and from the sound of it one of the gods got involved. That was a very rare occurrence. But South, Alecia, seemed to fuck up somehow and burned down a 1/8 of the forest in the process. North, Alec, was trying to calm her down but Eddy hadn’t been helping in that.

“Why the fuck are they called ‘North’ and ‘South’ anyways?” I asked stopping him dead in his tracks.

“Because their last name is Dakota. Like the states. And when Alecia does things they go south but when Alec steps in things get better so the opposite of south,” he explained.

“That’s a really stupid reason.”

“…yeah.”

Epsilon then went to elaborate on what quests were and honestly it sounded like something I’d be up for doing after the bullshit that went down last night. The corpse that housed The Oracle that lives in the attic of the Big House, I didn’t even want to know more than just that, or one of the gods themselves can send their children on quests to achieve something or get something. Some of the more recent quests were North’s with South and Lee, and Terrence’s quest. He’d been the only survivor. Epsilon then made a big effort to let me know how fucking dangerous these quests can be. Since the world outside of Camp Half-Blood was filled with monsters that wanted to eat me like a fruit snack, a lot of campers and satyrs never make it back to camp. That didn’t bother me though. With a little more training I could take on any monster that came my way. Little did I know that the first ‘monster’ I’d have to face before getting anywhere near going on a quest was my older sister, Tex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit (as of 7-17-2016): with the canon character designs of Locus and Felix some slight changes have been made to this chapter and any further with the story. The notable changes are-  
> -Felix's nationality (no longer Korean as I had originally put). Since his design actually looks a lot like Miles, I decided that his mother would be half Mexican and half Irish. Along with his hair being brown instead of black.  
> -CANON NAME TIME! "Felix" (I'm not going to be calling myself Isaac until much much later on) Gate is in the hiz-ous.  
> -Locus's first name because it's Sam and omg how lame is he lol! Since his character is still darker skinned i can still go with my "plans" and keep him Hispanic with just a darker skin tone. Also his last name in Ortez. And he's bilingual. And the show is made in TX. He's Hispanic guys. I love it <3
> 
> Not too many big changes, but just wanted to keep it as "canon" as possible.
> 
> (End Edit)
> 
> The Greek used on Felix's tattoo literally translates to "you only live once" so yeah YOLO.
> 
> Also yes I am standing by my bullshit way of calling North and South "North and South" because I honestly thought it was brilliant- good- ok- it was a thing that I did.  
> I'm planning on re-reading The Lightning Thief to get reacquainted with what I had planned back when I started writing this fic, and hopefully I'll be able to finish the 'arc' of Carolina's first summer.
> 
> Constructive criticism and comments are always appreciated!
> 
> Your Floralist of Ninja,  
> Reba The Mermaid


	6. I Thought I'd Sleep in Only 5 More Minutes (But Then Again Who Actually Does?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carolina sleeps a lot and dreams of "better" times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is a little bluh and its a fluffy filler chapter (that hopefully will help build up still later on) but I hope y'all enjoy.

The next few days were filled with intense training. The nights were no longer sleepless, considering I’d actually been able to tucker myself out. And with sleep came dreams… 

The first night these dreams started it was just a fuzzy daze; a memory I never experienced playing back in my head like a film. The sun had long set but the sky was still lit from the reflexive light of the winter moon. Snow slowly drifted down around a small campsite sandwiched in between towering trees. A sad looking fire flickered desperately, illuminating the face of a small group of children. They all looked dead tired and like they hadn’t eaten or slept in days. One of them even appeared to be badly injured; having a bloodied, torn strip of fabric wrapped tightly around their head. The kids’ faces were blurred into unrecognizability, but I couldn’t help but feel like they were familiar to me. One of the kids poked the fire with what seemed to be a short sword, another shivered as they observed a crudely drawn map, and the last held their injured head in their hands.

“The nearest safe house should be only a few miles north of here,” the one with the map stated. “If we push through just a little longer we can make it there before it gets too dark… We’re not safe just staying in one place like this out in the open.” The one with the sword grunted and gave a nod. 

SNAP.

The armed kid, who looked a lot taller and more menacing, pivoted around to face the direction of the sound of a tree branch braking. Their sword was in a position to strike but slowly lowered at the sight of someone I definitely recognized.

“Gods, man!” Epsilon exclaimed with his arms full of tinder. “You could poke an eye out with that thing!”

The wind picked up and the snow fell harder. The campfire flickered and then extinguished. I woke up to the sound of a cowbell being rung directly in my ear.

\---

The next dream didn’t come until a few days later, the night after a not-so-great confrontation with South. That bitch, I quickly found out, loves butting heads with anyone who breathes and has a pulse. Lucky for her, her brother stopped things early on and dragged her ass back to Cabin 7. It looked like no one payed mind to the argument and just brushed it off like a common occurrence. I assumed that she did that a lot. I was surprised I was able to fall asleep with the rush of adrenalin, but sure enough I was out cold as soon as the cabin lights went out. 

Those same kids were in this one, well, all but one. I could see them more clearly now. The tall one with the sword had on a white knit beanie covering his seemingly hairless head. The one who had been injured seeming to have made a decent recovery, running his fingers through his blonde messy hair. And Epsilon was across from them chewing on what seemed to be an old TV-Guide. The “leader” from before was absent. They seemed to be in a shabby house. It was covered in dust, grime, and cobwebs. There was a somewhat safe feeling to the place, but it had a looming presence of danger lurking from behind the rotted front door.

“She shouldn’t have gone alone…,” the blonde muttered. He fiddled with a can of peaches that had been half eaten. “What if-?”

“Chill out, dude. Connie’s a tough kid,” Epsilon reassured the boy. “I’m sure she’ll be back soon and either healthy as a Pegasus or having had kicked some major ass. She always has and does.” The satyr munched on the channel 43 listings from what tasted like the early 2000’s. 

“Aren’t you supposed to protect all of us? Last I checked, that included her.” 

“And last I checked, Connie was the one who left in the ass crack of dawn without a word, while it was her time to be on watch mind you-“

There was a knock at the sorry excuse for a door. Having not been given an answer, it creaked open revealing an older girl with choppy brown hair. Somehow I knew that this was Connie. With baldy at a close second, she seemed the oldest of the group (minus Epsilon and his who-on-earth-knows-how-old goat ass).

“Where have you been?” the satyr guardian questioned with a somewhat franticly serious tone. 

“Hunting…,” her voice trailed off. She looked as though she had a heavy weight upon her shoulders. 

“And you didn’t even bother to leave a note or let one of us know about it? Geez, Connie you need tell us these things!”

“Yeah!” the blonde kid interjected. “We’re a team. We have to watch out for each other.”

“You guys are fine without me,” Connie crossed her arms defensively. “I’m sure you can make it to camp just fine.”

“What are you getting at exactly? You’re making it sound like you’re not coming with us…” The kid stepped towards Connie as if he thought she would grow further away if he didn’t.

Connie tucked what hair she could behind her ear and pulled out something from her back pocket. It was some kind of pamphlet. The image started fading out of focus and the cabin turned back into woods. It was the same woods I’d run through to get to camp.

“Shit!” I heard Epsilon’s voice echo through the maze of trees. Loud noises of snapping twigs and footsteps grew closer by the second. In the distance, still distorted in my mind, were the two boys from the group with the satyr lagging behind. Epsilon was chucking pinecones and acorns behind them as they sprinted but it didn’t seem to have any effect. As the boys got closer a giant come into view and was hot on their heels. The bald kid was shirtless (not by choice) and had visible scarring across his chest and face. On his back was the blonde kid. He wasn’t looking good at all; bruises all over with blood trickling from his head, upper arm, and both legs. It didn’t look like he had much time left, barely keeping his bloodshot eyes open.

They ran and ran and finally reached the invisible wall surrounding Camp Half-Blood. It was like witnessing the end of a strenuous marathon. But instead of the over joyous feeling of seeing your favorite competitor winning the gold, it was the overwhelming relief of seeing them survive. The two didn’t stop sprinting until they were at the front porch of the Big House where Dr. Church and Chiron were waiting. They took the blonde kid inside for emergency care and tried to get the other in for treatment as well. But, he didn’t comply until after punching Epsilon in the arm. The satyr tumbled to the ground and was given a good menacing. At that moment I could make out his face. It was Maine. 

There was one moment of silence before a growl came out of Maine’s mouth where words should have been. But the general message came across clearly; he was NOT happy. Finally giving into the guiding hand of the centaurs, my older sibling was escorted inside. Epsilon sat in the dirt for the remainder of the dream. Some sleepy campers wander around outside to see what the commotion was but mostly it was just Epsilon. He stared at the ground cradling his possibly fractured arm. It was the first time I’d seen him so… broken. The scene faded into darkness. I woke up to the sound of an explosion from outside the cabin; part was the landmine and the rest was Tex’s screaming.

\--- 

“WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING?” Tex shouted. I groggily waddled to the cabin door and peeked outside. There was a large crowd circling the perimeter of the front lawn. My pain-in-the-ass sister was giving hell to a boy around her age. Tex had him held up to her eye-line, since he was a good few inches shorter than she. He’d clearly been ruffed up seeing as his nerdy glasses were crocked on his nose. I recognized him moments later as Tex’s seaweed-brain boyfriend, Leonard. 

“Well,” he started with a very sarcastically aggressive tone, “Right now I was thinking you’re a -massive bitch- AH! AH! OK! OK! I’M SHUTTING UP NOW! UNCLE, UNCLE!” She went from grabbing him from the collar to practically breaking his arm behind his back.

“Do you honestly think messing with high explosives is THAT hilarious?” she shoved his gaze into the direction of a slightly charred cyclops. Michael, often called Caboose though no one has explained that nickname to me yet, was covered in dirt and small burns. His cheery disposition hadn’t faltered from his normal attitude, but he was coughing small puffs of smoke. 

“Well… Just a little- OUCH! OK! NO, NO ITS NOT!”

Tex let go, letting Leonard fall to the ground. She walked over to Caboose and “kindly”, in her bossy way, told him to go jump in the lake to cool off his “boo-boos”. She even had him bend down so she could rustle the soot out of his almost wool like mop of hair.

“And take your idiot brother with you,” she instructed pointing down to her now just as dirty boyfriend. This made the “gentle giant” light up and throw the scrawny boy over his shoulder. Leonard swore and flailed as they both disappeared out of sight. 

“Alright nothing to see here! Got lost if you’re not Cabin 5!” Tex exclaimed as she menaced the crowd. They quickly dispersed in any and every direction away from the cabin. “EXCEPT YOU TUCKER!” she called. The smug asshole stopped dead in his tracks and slowly pivoted to face the already pissed off Tex. She walked up to him and loomed over the boy. I’d never noticed how much taller she was than almost everyone who wasn’t in Ares…

“I know you had something to do with this, Lavernius.” 

“No way! It was all Leon-NERD’s stupid idea. It was either landmines or convincing the big idiot to say out past curfew, but he was pretty sure the cleaning harpies like him too much since he helps with dishes. It’s not my fault Leonard hates his own ‘brother’. I just stuck around to see some action… Bow chicka bow wow~!”

Tex just shook her head into her hand. I could tell from my own experience that her probably soon to be ex-boyfriend was going to get one hell of a lecture. She let him catch up with his friends to see how big a water fight a cyclops and a son of Poseidon can get. He ran towards the lake making a really forced “wet” joke as his voice trailed off into the distance. Tex walked away from the scene as well towards the dining pavilion. 

I knew I’d probably get hell for it, but I just went back to bed. It had already been a little over two weeks since I arrived in camp. I just needed a break from all this drama and deadly explosions shit. At least if it involved Tex. Training I’m fine with but if it doesn’t have anything to do with me, or has something to do with super petty drama, I really don’t care. My eyes fluttered shut easily and I had one more dream before things got really… interesting.

\--- 

This dream was different from the others. The first few had been more like memories viewed through a lens that was slightly out of focus. But this one, it felt like a glimpse of something that was going to happen… or like the feeling of it going to be. It’s weird and hard to explain.

I was in a dark abyss. As far as I could see, and in every direction I turned, there was only black nothingness. Suddenly, light flooded from every side and from above; practically blinding me with only a yellowish-white in my vision. I was paralyzed by it. It started to make me nervous and I struggled to step away from the light. 

I felt something cold on my feet. Looking down I could see clearly that the seemingly limitless abyss was somehow filling up with water. It quickly rose up to my knees and my breathing was already short and quick, as though I was already anticipating drowning. It had been I long while ‘till I’d felt truly scared… I mean I’d been sort of scared when the hell hound attacked on the way to camp, but with training and my father’s blessing I’d kind of gotten over that already. I guess a better word would have to be helplessness; I was so lost and alone that I felt as though I didn’t have a chance to survive. That was a strange feeling for me. I was used to being alone. I was used to saving my own ass and coming out on top no matter how hard it was or how messed up I came out of it in the end. For the first time in a long time I felt the fear of dying alone…

The water was getting higher, almost past my waist. I was able to slowly tread it now, looking for a way out of what seemed to be escapeless. In the corner of my eye I saw two shadows dancing around the water with ease. But, every time I looked towards them they disappeared just out of sight. I tried calling out to them but the rushing water was just too loud. My throat get raw and dry. The water kept rising higher. The shadows were just out of reach.

“Pathetic,” a booming voice came from all around. “You gonna let a little water get the better of you? What a disgrace. I was hoping for better, Carolina.”

The words echoed. My blood seemed to boil and I got more and more frustrated. It was like I knew this person the voice belonged to was good at that. But I also felt even more fear and sensed superiority from it. I wanted to say respect but like the kind you have for that one gym teacher who gives you shit, but also can utterly destroy you if you look at them funny.

The voice echoed again, “See that over there.” Suddenly in my vision was something shining in the water, illuminating itself differently that the blinding lights around me. “Go get it for me, would ya? The Oracle will fill ya in on some other ‘details’. See you in Denver, kid. Don’t disappoint me.”

With that I treaded closer and closer to the shinning object, the shadows, well, shadowing behind. I dove into the now neck high water and started swimming downwards. I kept getting further from the surface but not nearer to the light. I swam and swam until the shadows started pulling me back. I fought them as best as I could to do as the voice had instructed, but my chest felt like it was crushing under pressure and my body became weak. Everything started fading to black as the shadows dragged me upwards. Their hands were warm in the cold water. Their grip felt almost painfully tight around my arms. When darkness completely filled my vision, all I could feel was my body violently shaking. It was like the water was spiraling into a whirlpool. 

“Carolina!” a different voice called my name. “Carolina!” it kept calling. The voice gave off a safer presence. It was a voice I felt like drifting towards. I must have already because with every time it said my name the voice got louder and louder. It was so familiar but so foreign. The only name I could think of as the voice kept yelling was… Allison…

\---

I was disappointed to find that it was just Tex smacking me like a ragdoll in my bunk. Once my eyes fluttered open I was met with her face. It wasn’t something I wanted to see in what I assumed was the first thing in the morning. 

“Keep your sword in your sheath,” I groggily said while swatting away her hands from me. “I just took a little nap-”

“Carolina,” she stopped me right there and then, her voice had a grim severity. “You were asleep for three days. We had to hook you up to an I.V. with a Nectar drip.” I looked over at my right arm to find a tube stuck in it, and then I looked back to Tex. I thought about talking to her and telling her about the dreams, the booming voice telling me to go to Colorado, Allison (or whoever the other voice belonged to) saved me from drowning. But, I held back. 

Ripping out the I.V., I worked my way to my feet although Tex and a few of my other siblings tried to lay me back down. I was feeling a little light headed but the Nectar was working wonders for me. My strength didn’t feel too faded. The camp door flung open a little harder than I’d intended when opening it, and a made my way past the minefield. Other campers gave me slightly concerned glances as I walked past the other cabins. I passed the volleyball court, the obstacle course, and the dinning pavilion. I stood on the front porch steps of the Big House. Taking a deep breath, I traveled the rest of the way and pounded on the door. I waited for someone to answer so I could have help figuring out what the hell was going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quest time is coming very soon! If you haven't guessed, the first voice is Ares and he's an asshole dad. Thanks for keeping with me! Life has been hectic and I haven't had the time or passion to write. I have some RWBY fluffy in storage that I'll be posting soonish but I want to keep updating this while RvB season14 is still airing (how awesome is the latest season btw? the correct answer is epic! hahaha) 
> 
> It's very late at night and I'm a tired mermaid so I'll stop typing now...
> 
> Thanks again for reading and constructive criticism is always appreciated! I'd love to hear what y'all think!
> 
> Your Floralish of Ninjas,  
> Reba The Mermaid


	7. We Don’t Have Any Skeletons in The Closet, But There is A Mummy in The Attic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while but I've been working on 7 and 8 simultaneously so the next chapter should be out by the end of the week (which makes me happy). I have been on a Heroes of Olympus kick and just finished Son of Neptune (finally, i started it like months ago). 
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy!

The one who opened the door was a satyr I’d never seen before. He looked at me with weirdly fiery eyes, but in a good way. I couldn’t help but draw a comparison in appearance to Epsilon (because saying that most all satyrs looked extremely similar to one another would possibly be considered racist in a mythical sense); the mess of hair almost hiding the nubby horns, the furry legs that bend like a goat’s, and wearing the same orange shirt as the rest of us. The most defining thing about him was that on top of the camp shirt, he had on an unbuttoned button down shirt with flames. It had paint splatters and stains all over it. He looked like a tiny, sane Guy Fieri that took a finger painting class with the five year olds from Apollo.

“Are you here to see Mr. D?” he asked giving me a good look up and down. “Or perhaps one of the counselors?”

“Yeah… I, um, have some questions for Dr. Church.”

The satyr smiled and led me inside the Big House. It was as cozy and summer-campy as I remembered. Maybe rustic would be a better word, but this was a camp after all. I was led back into the living area where I’d seen the “educational” video. Sitting on the red carpet sofa were Lee Eddy and York, with Dr. Church in his wheelchair parked cross from the two. They had seemed to be in a hushed discussion when I arrived in the room. The satyr cleared his throat causing the others to silence and give us their attention. The centaur smiled and welcomed me, “We’re glad to see you’re awake and able to move about, Carolina. We were all worried about you.”

“Sir, we need to talk,” I seemed to say a little more grimly than I meant to. I looked at the two Hermes kids, “Alone.” Taking the hint, Lee and York got up from their seats and thanked Dr. Church for his time. While passing, the boy put his hand on my shoulder and gave me a reassuring smile. 

“It really is good to see that you’re ok.” York said. 

After that the two left, along with Sigma, I sat on the sofa across from the camp counselor. I cleared my throat and took a deep breath. Dr. Church leaned forward in his chair, waiting patiently for me to speak. Having taken a moment to somewhat calm myself, I explained the dreams I’d been having the previous nights. 

“The first two that you described,” he began to explain, “were events of the past. Dreams like that can be somewhat common among half-bloods, such as yourself. The dreams are often of importance, indicating a message or events of the future. This might indicate you have a connection with David and you brother Markov.” I looked at him inquisitively due to the unfamiliar name. “Oh, pardon me, with Maine. 

“As for the latest dream, though we can’t yet be sure, is probably a message that leads towards,” what he said next completely changed my mood, “a quest.” The semi-coma and possibly mentally scarring nightmare was totally worth it. Not really… but still, hurray for a quest! 

“So how probable is this probably?” I asked trying hard not to smile. 

“Well, like the voice in your dream mentioned, first you’ll need to pay visit to the Oracle.”

\---

I found myself staring up at a green trap door on the ceiling. Pulling down the cord dangling in front of me, the door swung open and a wooden ladder fell down. Even though I’d climbed up four flights of stairs to get here, the small climb made me a little nervous. That didn’t sit well with me. I was looking forward to this… after I saw this Oracle I could go on a quest and be a hero or something like that. It was apparently in my nature to go out and do this that kind of thing. But that dream just wasn’t making all this sit well in my mind. If drowning was a part of the prophecy I was going to be in some deep shit…

It didn’t take long for me to get to the top, or to notice the smell of mildew. The space was filled with random junk; cobweb covered shields and spears in display cases, a table with rows of jars filled with pickled “things”, and other displays like a horn with a plaque under it reading, MINOTAUR HORN, LONG ISLAND, N.Y., 2005. There were multiple other plaques scattered about with dates going back even further. I would have loved to hear the story behind the first hydra head during Woodstock in 1969.

The most interesting thing of note was a mummified corpse sitting next to the only window in the attic on a stool. It looked like it used to be a woman; having long black hair still attached somehow to her head (probably due to her headband), a slightly faded tie dye dress, and so many necklaces that you’d think she been partying during Mardi Gras. The place where her eyes would have been were filled in with marbles. It was safe to say that she was creepy. The way her skin desperately clung to her bones made her look much, much older than having been still alive in the 1960’s.

The way her lifeless “eyes” seemingly looked me over made me feel chills. It was like a tiny frozen worm was crawling up my spin. And then it got weird. 

The leathery woman sat up in her seat and opened her mouth. Green mist poured out of it like emerald dry ice, filling the floor around me. I tried to back away towards the trap door, but stopped dead in my tracks hearing a loud SLAM. My only means of escape besides jumping out the window beside the creepy mummy lady was cut off. I could hear a voice inside my head, wriggling around up there like the mist in the room. 

“I am the spirit of Delphi, speaker of the prophecies of Phoebus Apollo, slayer of the mighty Python. Approach, seeker, and ask,” she echoed in my head. The voice didn’t feel dangerous, definitely inhuman but not threatening like the hellhound or Mr. Jones. 

I took a deep breath, trying not to inhale mist. I said aloud, “What is my destiny?” The mist swirled around my feet in rely. It became thicker and spiraled around me.

\---

After my audience with the hippy mummy, I was able to get out of the moldy heated attic and back to the less musty living area. I found Epsilon sitting where I had been not too long ago waiting with Dr. Church. On seeing me enter, he hopped up from his seat and the two’s eyes were all on me.

“How’d it go?” the satyr asked, most likely been filled in by the centaur while I was upstairs. 

“More importantly,” Dr. Church chimed in, “What did the Oracle say; her prophecy?”

Considering how weird the experience had been, although they probably considered something like that the “norm”, it was hard for me not to remember about the leathery woman’s words. I cleared my throat and recited what I’d been told:

“You will venture west to find what was misplaced in haste,  
With you will be two sons; one of thieves and one burdened with disgrace.  
One will face their darkest fears, one will light a harmful flame,  
And the last will gain a bittersweet but humbling acclaim.”

I left a beat after the last line before addressing them again, “And that’s all she wrote.” 

“Well, we know west is to Denver, CO considering your dream happened to be somewhat specific on that end.” The centaur stroked his bread in thought. “Normally a group of three demigods is a safe, and sacred number, when venturing on quests. You can choose who accompanies you, but the prophecy is hinting at too other demigods.”

“‘One of thieves’ would definitely be a son of Hermes,” Epsilon said while slumping back down onto the sofa. “Considering who you know from that cabin, I’m guessing York is your personal choice.” I wanted to kick him in his furry butt. “But who’s gonna be Mr. Disgrace?”

“Well… I’ve been having these dreams about someone you know more than you’ve been letting on, Epsilon. You know David Washington?” By his face going from cocky to solemn in 0.5 seconds, he knew exactly why I’d brought up the child of Athena. “I’m not going to pry into it, you can tell me or not what went down back then, whatever. All I know is that I think I’m supposed to take him with me…”

“What about Maine?”

“He doesn’t look like the ‘disgrace’ type, E.”

“Then take me alone. It’s not odd for a satyr to tag along on a quest.”

“Epsilon,” Dr. Church began mediating the discussion. “The key word here is ‘son’. We can all debate till we’re blue in the face, but that has to mean a son of one of the gods. Taking into account of everything, Carolina, York if she still so chooses, and David will be going on this quest.” Epsilon mumbled something in Greek, sinking further into the sofa. 

“So what about all that stuff about ‘darkest fears’ and ‘harmful flame’?” I inquired to try and change that particular subject.

“Hard to say,” the centaur stoked his beard once more. “However, you will find out soon enough. Prophecies are never fully clear. Sometimes it’s complex and sometimes it’s simple. Best thing for you to do is not to over think it.” He rolled closer towards me and put his hand on my shoulder. I never realized how long his arms were, or maybe I wasn’t as tall as I thought…

“I’ll inform York and David of the situation, and let them know to be ready to leave in the morning. I’ll have a ride into town scheduled for you up the hill, near the camp’s border. You’d best get prepared yourself.” Giving my shoulder a good squeeze, he rolled past and called over one of the other satyrs to travel his message. I took one last look at Epsilon pouting on the sofa. His ears were as red as the fabric he was sitting on top of. 

I left the Big House and headed back to the cabin. I ignored my siblings trying to get some information out of me. Especially Tex’s pestering. All I wanted to do now was lay in bed, even though I’d been doing that for days in a coma, and just get in a few hours of sleep. I had an odd feeling once I left camp I wouldn’t get much of that for a long while…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Markov is Russian name for Of Mars; the god of war. Although that's the Roman equivalent of Ares, I just really liked the name and it fit so... My personal headcanon (at least for this au) is that Maine’s mother is half Russian and half Puerto Rican. 
> 
> As for the Minotaur horn, that was a pretty obvious reference to the first book haha.
> 
> Side note: originally i had Epsilon going with York and Carolina, but Wash (being a child of Athena and pre-serious-pants-Wash) seemed better for the quest and for some Project Freelancer fun times! Think of him as an Annabeth/Grover hybrid but with swirly straws and more awkwardness. 
> 
> Thank you guys so much for reading! Friendly reminder that constructive criticism is always welcome, and a super big thank you for reading!
> 
> Your Floralist of Ninjas,  
> Reba The Mermaid


	8. David’s Bad Day and The Wrong Side of The Hudson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Off to the quest! This is a bit of a lengthy chapter, so I'm surprised I was able to pump this out as fast as I did.
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy!

Even though, considering how big the camp was, word always seemed to travel fast. It might have been due to me choosing one of the children of the messenger god (and of travel), or that kids just love gossiping about quests. York was happy to hear about it, even though he got the message before even being summoned to the Big House. Epsilon was nervous for me (probably because of David, which he still never told me about what went on), but not as nervous David who tried hiding in the woods until his cabin’s head counselor dragged him back. 

And then, there was Tex…

“Are you going to try and stop me?” I’d asked her as I finished packing a small pack with ambrosia, nectar, and some drachma and modern currency. My question came out with a little more distain than I’d planned but I didn’t care.

Tex’s face was solemn. She ran her fingers through her hair and rustled it slightly as though she was trying to shake off a feeling. After a moment of silence, she stepped towards me and looked me dead in the eyes. It looked like she was about to chew me out, but her eyes began to soften. They shimmered like… like she was close to crying. I’d never seen her like this before. No, that wasn’t true… Not entirely anyways. Even though I didn’t want to admit it, little pieces of this expression had been scattered throughout the times she’s been with me. She’d been the girl who took care of me when I had first arrived half dead to camp (which took me a lot longer to realize than I’d honestly let on). However she’s also, not only taken care of me but betting on me living, so there was a slight ulterior motive to her “sisterly kindness”.

She’d had a genuine smile when welcoming me to my new family (but also, she won money from it…). She’d been genuinely pissed the hell off when I fucked up capture the flag. I never knew what to think of her completely. I finally figured out that anger ran in the family and I didn’t like it. I was either mad at her of worried she was going to punch me between the eyes. That’s not… normal? Healthy? What it just an “Ares’ kids thing”? That didn’t sit well with me. 

Tex looked at me like I was going to fade away or break or worse. I didn’t like that look. It was the same look that people gave me when they talked about Allison. The look of “oh that person is damaged” and “what a disappointment, she could have been great if not for you”. I wasn’t like Allison. I barely even looked like her. I was going to be great and live to tell about it even if it meant I’d have to pull tooth and nail to get there.

Carolina,” she finally spoke. “Just… be careful. I want you to take my sword-”

“Don’t need it,” I cut her off. “I’ve already got it covered.”

I felt around in my pack and pulled out the red pocket knife I had acquired from Dr. Church so long ago. “It’s a spear. I used it to kill a giant with a really fucking stupid name.” I couldn’t help but let out a bitter chuckle. “I haven’t shown it off quite yet because I didn’t think I’d get to keep it… Knowing you, you’d probably ‘confiscate’ it and keep it for yourself,” I scoffed. Tex looked somewhat hurt by my words but quickly did exactly what I had predicted. But she didn’t keep it for her own. Picking up a sharpie marker that was mostly used for defiling posters stolen from Cabin 7, she wrote on the side of the knife and handed it back. 

“Κηδεμόνας (Kidemónas),” she said. “Meaning guardian. Look, Carolina. I may give you a lot of shit but that’s because… well, because I care. I guess,” Tex quickly added. “I mean, every family has their issues. Do you think even though we have the same godly dad that we’ll all get along all the time? That’s not possible even for the gods themselves!

“Look at Leonard and Michael; I don’t think that dumbass boyfriend of mine (and only I can call him that so don’t even try) will ever not hate his brother. Terrence is an asshole but we still love him because he’s our asshole. Even us kids can’t get along without mortal or godly parents, whether it’s one or the other or both. We’re teenagers. It’s what we do. Half the time the gods want nothing to do with us, but fuck up bad enough or they need an errand run and suddenly they care. What I’m saying is that family can suck ass, like, a lot. But, when it all comes down to it, us brothers and sisters have to care for each other. Keep Kidemónas close to you, and when you thrust the tip of your spear into the hearts of your enemies, know that I’m right there with you.” 

“Wow, Tex. That was… actually sweet of you. A little bloodthirsty at the end but sweet.” I let a soft grin slip.

“Don’t tell anyone,” she chuckled while giving me a gentle punch in the arm. “I’ve got appearances to uphold. Can’t have punks like you mucking up my badass reputation.” We both let out a laugh and somehow tensions were lifted. It was strange. For the first time Tex actually felt like my sister and not another stranger I was forced to bunk with. Suddenly it all her emotions made sense. Sister laugh, they fight, older and younger siblings clash. It felt nice to know that for once something about my life was “normal”.

The rest of our time together before me leaving was her helping finishing up my packing, and the occasional bitching about South. That was something else we had in common. She made a joke about York and how much closer we can get over a quest vs. how close he was during capture the flag. Oddly enough, Tex didn’t even mention my fuck up. Not even in a playful “ha ha” way. I wouldn’t say it was a 180, but more of a bridge built over that moment. She almost made me a little sad to leave. But once my last pair of socks was shoved in my pack, I was out the door in fresh spirits. 

Walking through the camp and up the hill I was greeted at the meeting spot by Argus, the man with all the eyes (I learned he was head of security for the camp and in ancient times was a bit of a badass), Chiron (out of his chair and in his centaur form) next to him, and York who was leaning up against our ride; a large white van with “Delphi Strawberry Service” logoed on the side. I looked around for our missing quest-mate.

“Where is-?” I started to ask before the sound of gasping for air drew closer from behind me. David Washington was sprinting up the hill and looked like an absolute mess. I’d seen him around before but never like this; deep purple rings under his eyes, bed head messier than some of the boys’ side of our cabin, and what appeared to be a… Hello Kitty backpack. The son of the goddess of wisdom, war strategy, and apparently the girliest fucking thing that I’ve seen since meeting the daughters of Aphrodite. Fear his kawaii terror.

“S-sorry I’m l-late,” he huffed while grasping his knees. “Couldn’t sleep. Too scar- excited. Too, too excited for this...” He looked up at me still panting. He gave her a very nervous smile and tried standing up straight. I could see his legs shaking. I almost felt like I needed to tell him, “No worries, Davey. Go right back down that hill and send back someone who probably won’t make it past Ohio”, but I still couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed to be with us. And, curiosity about the past shown in my dreams was starting to get the better of me. I know I told Epsilon that I wouldn’t pry but that didn’t extend to David. I’d wait on the questions however, since now that the gang was all here, Chiron ushered us into the van and into the passengers’ seats. He wished us well and he signaled Argus to head off.

We traveled past the strawberry fields and into the city. He drove us all the way to a Manhattan bus station and dropped us off. The three of us were now on our own. The first thing I did was use my limited supply of cash to buy a newspaper. Outdated as hell, considering it was a dying medium of information, but there were certain things only a local paper could tell; obituaries, wanted sections, and what I perused through, missing persons. I was somewhat grateful but kind of disappointed to not find my face or name in the not-so-small section of disappearances and runaways. Either my aunt-whatever was still away on her “business” trip or just didn’t care. 

York took out the sports section and flipped through the pages, hoping his predictions were spot on so he wouldn’t have to pony up too many drachma when we got back to camp. He used some of his change to get us drinks from the vending machine; I got some real Coca-Cola (the camp’s magic cola wasn’t cutting it for me) and he got Dr. Pepper. I almost choked up soda from my nose when he told me how his beverage got its name, especially when he asked if “Ares-Cola” would get him my phone number, him knowing full well neither of us owned cell phones. David was getting our bus tickets from the station and was taking a little longer than expected. Having looked at the routes this station’s buses would take us, the furthest we could afford was the almost 12 hour ride to Cleveland, Ohio. It would give us some time to rest and strategize for any trials we might face. Staying in one vehicle for so long might be risky, but it was a better chance than hitchhiking and getting picked up by a monster. 

Finally, David ran back with our tickets and told us our bus was about to leave. We all sprinted onto the bus, seemingly being the last passengers to get on. We were forced into different seats; David in front in between two older ladies knitting, and York and I were in the very back, only separated by some guy listening to music that was way too loud. I could hear the bass even before I took my seat. With so many people around it made it difficult to discuss battle plans, so we agreed to wait until the first pit stop to talk strategy.

There wasn’t much traffic so I felt a little confident about getting closer to Denver in no time. York, however, had a bit of an uneasy feeling. It was like his internal compass was telling him something wasn’t right but he brushed it off to not dampen my spirits. David seemed to be having a good time talking with the ladies next to him. They even used him to help untangle their yarn. The trip was going pretty smoothly, and sooner than I realized, my eyes fluttered a little and closed just for a moment. 

What felt like seconds later, York was shaking me awake a little too hard. He did not look happy. Next to him was a very nervous David. I quickly noticed that we were the only ones left on the bus.

“Our first stop?” I half yawned giving my arms a little stretch. 

“Our ONLY stop,” York replied. I was fully awake now.

“What do you mean?” my brow furrowed. 

“Well,” David spoke up half hiding behind York. “There was a mix up at the bus station…. I should have known better that the tickets were too cheap but the saleswoman was very persuasive… and very chatty. Before I knew it she shoved the tickets in my hand and told me the bus was about to leave and…” The poor kid trailed off mumbling and cursing the gods for his dyslexia. 

I took deep breaths. I counted from 1 to 10. From the expressions of the other two, my attempted to keep calm weren’t working well. “Where are we?” I managed to ask.

“New Jersey,” York answered.

“Jesus Christ.”

“I’m really sorry, guys,” David apologized while awkwardly grasping his backpack straps. 

“We’re only two hours away from where we started,” York took a deep breath. “And while you were asleep, and I will admit I took a bit of a nap myself, headphone’s guy took our wallets.” Upon hearing this I immediately dug through my pack. All that remained of my currency was the drachma I’d had in the inner pocket. The wad of cash I’d reserved for the quest was gone. York explained that all he still had was, like me, a few drachma that had gone unnoticed and a handful of crumpled up $1s and loose change. “And with the waste of money on the bus tickets, Wash here doesn’t have enough for three people to get to Colorado.” I could feel my blood pressure rising. 

“Don’t get too stressed,” York patted me on the shoulder in an attempt of calming me down. “These things are never easy. Could have been worse. Much worse. Trust me, a little detour and being low on cash is way better than getting eaten or maimed.”

“Unless you’re going to plan on living here and pay me rent, I’d suggest you kids get off my bus,” the driver called from the front. Taking the hint, I stood up and exhaled loudly. Trying to think of the positives I took comfort in the fact that Kidemónas was still safely sandwiched between my socks and an extra camp shirt. At least I could still defend myself.

We hopped off and started walking towards what York assured us was north-west. It didn’t take us long to get on some deserted two lane road. After walking for a few miles and noticing it getting later in the afternoon, the child of Hermes suggested we walk a few more miles and set up camp before sunset. And so we did. 

The sun was getting lower in the sky and with my feet starting to get sore, and hearing David say he was sorry every ten minutes, I was getting pretty damn tired. And pretty damn hungry. There hadn’t been any gas stations or diners for miles, and none of us had thought of eating before we starting walking aimlessly. 

“I smell something…,” York, who had been at the front of the pack stopped dead in his tracks, “Something really good…” He sniffed the air and I did the same. It smelt like something really, really good. 

“Hamburgers,” David said. We walked a little further and found a single closed-down gas station. There was a billboard for some 1990s movie, it was extremely tattered but I think it was for Pulp Fiction. And there seemed to be an open business, pointed to by a gaudy neon sign. I’d hoped it would be a fast-food restaurant but instead it was one of those touristy curio shops. The building was shaped like a long, low warehouse being guarded by statuary. We all looked at the sign in confusion and I couldn’t help but get discouraged. 

ATNYU MES GDERAN GOMEN MEPROUIM.

“What the fuck does that mean?” I finally said what we were all thinking.

David unzipped his backpack pulling out a plain notebook and pen, and for a few minutes scribbled in it until finally he underlined something on the page. He grinned and showed it to us. Reading what he had deciphered, “Aunty Em’s Garden Gnome Emporium.”

“Do you think they have a-?” 

“Snack bar?” York finished my sentence. We both smiled and follow the scent of food to the front gate. David trialed behind pouting, seeing as we ignored his deduction and what I assumed was an effort to make up for the bus tickets. I would have felt bad about it but my mind was just so focused on the smell of freshly grilled burgers. The aroma was intoxicating. I was known for doing some knee-jerk, impulsive stuff but never really just walking through the gates of a random Emporium with a garden filled with copious statues. But you never got a whiff of Aunt Em’s cooking. I barely noticed how detailed and unique each of the statue’s faces were; no one having the same expression as the other. We stopped in front of the warehouse door and knocked. 

It creaked open to reveal a tall woman wearing a burqa. I think? I was never “up to date” with the P.C. stuff and my non-existent knowledge about everything, but she was covered head to toe in a black gown; only her hands were showing and her face was fully veiled. Her voice even sounded kind of Middle-Eastern. “Are you children all alone? It’s not safe for you to be out here with it getting so late,” she gestured whole handed to the sun sinking into the horizon. “Where are your parents?”

“They’re… um…,” I’d started to say.

“We’re nomadic,” York chimed in. “We got separated from our group, so they told us if that were to happen to wait at the gas station. Now that I think of it, they might not have meant this gas station… We’re totally lost. Anyways, is that food I smell?”

“You poor things. Come in, come in. I’m Aunt Em. Please, head to the very back of the warehouse. There’s a dining area there. Poor dears, let me fix you something to eat,” the old woman ushered us inside.

As we all made our way to the back David whispered to York, “So we’re νομάδες (nomades)? Dude, you know I used to be-”

“I know, I know. I needed an in. The only other options were we were runaways or Carolina and I eloped and you were the only witness we could find.” I could hear the chuckle in his voice. I didn’t even care enough to elbow him in the gut. I didn’t even care about David almost fulfilling my curiosity about those dreams. I could only think of food…

I was able to notice my surrounding slightly. The warehouse was full of those statues; animals and people of all different types. Squirrels doing cute little stances, young girls and boys stationed in different poses, even some statues that looked around our age and older. One of them even seemed to have a corded necklace with clay beads strung on it, something I had noticed many or rather almost all the other campers at Camp Half-Blood would wear.

York laughed and pointed at it. “That one looks like Utah! That guy did seem like the type to pose for those kind of things.” 

“Didn’t something happen to Utah? Like, on a quest or something? Like the one we are on?” David rapidly inquired as we passed it, giving it a good long look himself.

“Who knows…” York’s voice trailed off like he was trying to remember something. “And who cares, I’m starving!” He let out another laugh and picked up his pace. 

Suddenly, I felt a burning in the back of my head that I’d grown accustomed to over the years, and turned around to face a statue of a guy in a stupid looking tuxedo you’d see someone wearing at a school dance. I was surprised at how detailed it looked up close. The guy’s face had realistic looking acne carved in, the suit looked wrinkled and baggy, and each of the curls of his hair looked intricately carved into the stone. I would have usually found it extremely impressive. But then my tunnel vision, or tunnel smell(?), over took my curiosity and I barely noticed the eyes of the statues seemingly following us as we made our way to the dining area. We barely even noticed Aunt Em lock the door behind us.

Reaching the back of the warehouse, the dining area was a pretty impressive set up. Surrounding the metal picnic table were soda dispensers, a cotton candy machine, and even a pretzel warmer with freshly baked goodies inside spinning. Next to those was a grill and fryer where Aunt Em stationed herself. “Come sit, children,” she’d insisted as she got to cooking. 

“We don’t have much money,” David reminded us in telling her. 

“No worries, child. No money. Travelers like yourselves are a special case. Please, enjoy.” She continued cooking as we all sat, David more reluctantly than myself and our other companion. 

“Thank you, ma’am,” David said sheepishly. This made the old woman stiffen as if the guy had done something wrong or offended her. Her shoulders visibly relaxed after a moment or so.

“No need for thanks, David,” she said in reply. “You have such… handsome gray eyes, dearie.” I surprisingly didn’t find that creepy or wonder why she knew his name. I was too occupied with her placing plastic trays filled with food in front of us. Double beacon cheese burgers, Neapolitan ice cream milkshakes, and massive servings of French fries and curly fries.

I was halfway done with my shake before I remembered I had to breathe. And that my brain was frozen. York pretty much inhaled his burger. I don’t even know if I saw him take bites, it was just gone. David nibbled on some fries and took out his own curly straw from camp to sip on his shake. I could tell he was worried about something. Was it the name thing or the complement about his eyes or-?

“Do you guys hear that?” he asked while his gray eyes glanced across the area.

“Nope,” York said with his mouth full. I shook my head and shrugged.

“Really? It sounds like hissing…”

“You must be hearing the fryer, David.” Aunt Em interlocked her fingers and tilted her covered head. “Don’t worry about it. Eat, dear.”

The woman preceded to watch us while we ate with her veiled gaze. I started to let the creepiness affect me and wanted to get rid of it to enjoy my food. So, I did something I would never do; break the ice.

“You sell gnomes,” I addressed our hostess in an attempt to start a conversation.

“Oh yes indeed, Carolina. And animals, people, well, anything from the garden. Sometimes I get custom orders, very rarely… Some don’t turn out the best, sadly… But for the most part they end up acceptable.” I could almost feel her smile under her veil. 

I started to feel uneasy and very drowsy. The food and our hostess’s voice seemed to be lulling me into a fatigue. I looked over at York and noticed the same sleepiness in his eyes as he continued to eat. Something wasn’t right.

“Must be hard, a woman like yourself working all alone on a backroad,” York pointed his French fry at the woman. 

“Sales have been lower since the highway came about, so I enjoy whatever customers I can find. Though, I wasn’t always alone in my ventures. My sisters – rest their souls – used to keep me company. But now, my statues are the only companions I can find…” For some reason, I could tell she was looking straight at David. “This reminds me of a sad story that I think you’d be familiar with, David dearie. Not one a good child like you should know of; a lovely young, beautiful woman cursed by a jealous woman. She wanted to keep the beauty and her… boyfriend apart. There was an incident and the beauty’s sisters, two just like mine, stayed by her side. The jealous gray-eyed wench cursed them all. The sisters faded away… to the Fields probably… while she- or rather I still remained. At a price. Such a HEAVY price.”

“I think we should get going now,” I tried to stand up but my legs were numbing. My eyes were starting to flutter. 

“Oh please stay a while longer, dears,” the old woman drew closer. I tried to reach for my pocket knife in my pack that I had placed under the metal bench. I could tell David was reaching for something in his Hello Kitty backpack taking my lead. York, now catching on to the change in the moment’s mood, did the same. “How about a picture! Just modeling for a statue. It will only take a moment of your time.” My eyes grew heavier and I was starting to get swayed by the sound of her voice. 

“Not very good lighting for a photo,” I said trying to ground myself back into the now tense situation. 

“It’s good enough. Just sit and smile, dears.” She stepped backwards and started to fiddle with her veil.

“Guys… We need to go. NOW.” David’s eyes were wide and, instead of a weapon, had pulled out a New York Yankees baseball cap. 

“Such beautiful gray eyes,” Aunt Em cackled. “Now smile big, dearies. The face is always the hardest part… Look here and smile big.”

Putting on the cap, David vanished into thin air. I could feel him tackling me down, York falling in tow having grasped my hand with his that wasn’t now holding a sword. As we tumbled down and hit the concrete, I could hear the hissing the youngest of our party had mentioned earlier. 

Hissing. Aunt Em. 

M.

Medusa.

Fuck my life…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be the first to admit the pacing isn't the best in this chapter. I was having a bit of an uphill battle with keeping up the Aunt Em scene while not completely ripping off the book. Hopefully the next chapter will be better flowing, considering there will be some bigger differences from "We Visit the Garden Gnome Emporium". 
> 
> Anyways, I'm really excited about elaborating on Tex and Carolina's relationship later on though that probably wont come about until after the quest (sadly). And I'm sorry for the cliffhanger. This chapter probably should have been two instead of one but I don't like short chapters so... yeah. 
> 
> Like always, constructive criticism is always welcome and thank you for reading!
> 
> Your Floralist of Ninjas,  
> Reba The Mermaid


	9. “A Snake [Spear] in One’s Bosom”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The thrilling conclusion! I'm not sure about that but I gave it a shot haha. 
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy!

I was staring at the shoes of Medusa and they were tacky as hell. Normally I wouldn’t think of that kind of thing but considering how many levels of fucked we were at, focusing on the shoes made me feel less perturbed. It also helped that I could feel York’s breath on the back of my neck. It was nice knowing I wasn’t the only one still alive. David was nowhere to be seen, considering he was now invisible.

I felt stupid for not seeing how obvious it all had been, or how I’d let the entrancing persuasion of Medusa affect me. There wasn’t much time to dwell on that, however. I’d managed to pull Kidemónas out of my pack and was about to open the blade when I realized that that I wasn’t in the best position to be summoning a spear. I wiggled my fingers out of York’s, he was still holding my hand although he probably hadn’t meant to do so for as long as he had, and barrel rolled across the floor. 

“Don’t look at her directly!” I could hear David shout the obvious, his voice echoing in the warehouse. I made my way behind the cotton candy machine and flipped open the blade. It quickly transformed into its true form. I used the tip of the spear as a mirror, the images being slightly deformed. I could see York making a b-line towards the forest of statues and Medusa hot on his tail. Her hair was moving violently on her head, hissing and urging her to go the opposite direction of where the child of Hermes ventured. She let out a blood curdling laugh and went with their suggestion.

“Come out, gray-eyed child. You’re mother’s gift cannot keep you out of my sight! I can smell your fear,” she cackled. 

“Keep your hands at the level of your eyes!” I could hear York shout from behind the tuxedo guy. 

“No shit, Madam Giry!” I called back, quickly changing my position. I darted behind the gorgon and made my way to his side. We bumped shoulders and discussed what to do.

“We’ve got to cut her head off, that’s the only way to take her out. She’s going after David right now but I don’t think she would let him get a chance to attack. Maybe if one of us got close enough…” York looked at me with that cheeky look in his eye.

“Good luck with that,” I patted him on the shoulder and gave him similar look. “I’ve got a feeling that you’re more her type. Knock her dead, lady killer.”

He let out a sigh and rolled his eyes playfully. Grasping his sword, he gave me a quick wink before dashed across the warehouse and weaved between the petrified statues. Through the reflection of Kidemónas, I could see things not looking too good for David. A celestial bronze knife was on the ground by Medusa’s feet seemingly been thrown at her from a distance. It was most likely he tried to backhand throw it at the monster, but his depth perception didn’t make that easy. He missed by almost a foot… So, close yet so far. And he gave away his position. Sort of. Still being invisible, the only thing giving him away was him what I could assume was unconscious muttering.

“I don’t want to end up like Utah…” 

SMASH. 

I looked towards the sound to see York extremely close to where Medusa stood. Except he was several feet to the left. In an attempt to slice her head off, he instead demolished a particular stone half-blood.

“OH GODS I DON’T WANT TO END UP LIKE UTAH!” David’s voice echoed from all around. 

Feeling utterly useless, I felt my blood boiling. My adrenalin began to rush and my instincts kicked in. Impulsively, I pivoted around and lunged with my eyes clenched shut. With all my power, and a quick prayer to my father, I launched Kidemónas in what I assumed was the direction of the gorgon.

I must have had better aim than I realized (blinded, at least) because a horrendous scream shortly followed my throw. I heard two sets of footsteps; the sound of York’s boots slowly inching towards the direction of the scream, and those tacky shoes heading towards him.

“How cruel… The both of them…” Medusa was using that charming tone again. “Just look what that war child did to me… My lovely chest…” 

I wanted to yell for him not to look but I knew better. I wanted to kick myself for aiming too low. But I didn’t have that kind of opportunity. 

Medusa made an unpleasant noise. She hissed and cursed in ancient Greek. 

“York! On your left, about 6 feet, swing at a 45 degree angle!” David yelled. His invisible form was holding the end of my spear for dear life as Medusa struggled to turn to petrify the child of Athena. Taking these instruction, York practically flew into his attack. 

SHLOCK!

THUNK.

HISS. The sound of a monster disintegrating rung in my ears.

“Do NOT open your eyes,” David instructed. He looked up at the ceiling towards the dining area and then came back with the black veil. He draped it over what I guessed what the head of the gorgon bitch. “Clear,” he said almost as if he was releasing a held breath.

I opened my eyes to see York scratched up a little with goo covering the guy. He muttered about it being in his socks and he swore on the River Styx that some of it got in his mouth. Seeing the situation wasn’t as life threatening, I couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle. 

“No one move that veil. Unless, you know, you want to turn to stone,” David turned to me and extended Kidemónas. “Here. Thanks for the save. I… couldn’t think as straight as I should have been able to. That stab between the lungs got my brain turning in the right direction. Nice throw by the way.”

I took back my weapon and used the hem of my shirt to get off any goo, and then proceeded to convert it back into its pocket knife form. “You’re not too bad yourself. If she hadn’t been one of your mother’s enemies I’m sure you would have hit just as accurately.” I bent down and picked up his extremely well kept knife, handing it back to him in returning the favor. 

“Tell me I was awesome,” York chimed in. “Because I’ve got gorgon on my new running shoes and a deadly head full of snakes way too close for my personal definition of comfort.” 

We both made our way over to our gooey friend; I carefully scooped up the veiled decapitated head, while David handed a fist full of napkins from the picnic table to help de-goo York. It didn’t do much but it was the thought that counts. 

“So… Since I’m still new to the whole ‘monsters and killing them’ thing, quick question, why is the head still here?” I glanced at the ash of what used to be a homicidal ancient lady.

“Spoils of war,” York said with a bit of pride. “Like a little trophy to show off how you didn’t die. You probably saw a few up in the attic. This however… isn’t something I’d like to have collecting dust anywhere near where I sleep. Any ideas for us to stash it, oh child of wisdom?”

David’s brow furrowed and bit his lip. “I highly doubt there’s really a safe place for us to keep it on us during the trip… Maybe you could get your dad to deliver it back to camp? She did custom orders so…” Looking around for a bit, we spotted a small office area. Heading over there with the head, we found a good size box among the packaging and ready-to-ship items. I carefully dumped the head into the container and taped it about twenty times over. We went back to the picnic table and David scribbled on one of the delivery slips that had been next to the packing tape:

“Half-Blood Hill  
Long Island, New York

Warning, Head of Medusa. Open with caution. Leonard, we are blaming you for this.  
Still alive,  
York, Wash, and Lina”

Underneath the message, he doodled a small Medusa caricature giving whomever reads it the middle finger. It looked cuter than it really should have considering who it was of. York took a small leather bag and put what few drachma he had left (and then later raided Medusa’s register for some more as well as around $40 in cash to keep for the quest) and closed it.

CHA-CHING.

The transaction had went through and the package levitated off the table and vanished.

“Speaking of disappearing,” I directed my gaze towards the now calmer David. “Nice hat.”

“Thanks,” his ears turned a little red. “My, uh, sister gave it to me before we left. Vanessa, I mean. She got it from our mom back when she took her third quest? Maybe it was her fourth… Anyways, she didn’t use it too much, being more of a frontal attack type strategist, so she let me borrow it.”

“Did she also let you borrow her backpack?” York remarked as he gathered our stuff that was scattered across the floor. 

“No… that was… a different sister… I told her I liked cats so for my birthday she-” his face was as red as my pocket knife by this point. “Fuck you, dude. She’s six, ok? How was I supposed to say ‘no?’!” 

“Like this, ‘no’. See, that simple,” York slung his pack over his shoulder and handed me mine. “Either that, or ask her next year to get you something more masculine, like a Sailor Moon Luna purse!” We all chuckle a little at that one. It was nice to have tensions being relieved after just killing an enemy. 

“Well, I think its ok for a guy to have that kind of backpack,” I said to try and make up for my inner remark upon first seeing it. “It’s manly as hell, even. I honestly pegged you more of a Chococat than a Kitty though.” For the first time ever not one but two people actually laughed at a joke that I made. Hell, I actually made a joke. Today was looking up.

But sadly today was almost over. The sun was quickly setting and it was going to get even more dangerous once night fully fell. Monsters weren’t nocturnal but they did like the lack of mortal interference with getting a juicy demigod meal.

“Any plans? Suggestions?” I asked the two more experienced among us.

They looked at each other, then at me and then back at each other. There was a long moment of silence before David finally spoke up. 

“I know of a safe house not too far from here. It’s in the woods just outside of Trenton. If we walked, it would take another day. But, I think I saw an abandoned truck over at the gas station. It was probably from one of Aunty Em’s unfortunate models. If there’s enough fuel in the tank we can make it there in a little over an hour.”

We had a new game plan. York looked over the engine and gave it a passing inspection. He was a little bummed that the keys were in the visor and he didn’t get to show off his hotwiring skills. The fuel tank was about halfway full. Or halfway empty, according to David.

We all piled in the pickup and our resident child of the god of travel (and the only one with a driver’s license) started up the engine. The drive was somewhat peaceful. We were all on high alert but it was pleasantly uneventful as we passed by tree after tree. An old cassette tape that was stuck in the player serenaded us with Michael Jackson’s Bad album. We all couldn’t help but hum along as we cruised towards hopefully a safe place to regroup and make a new plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm surprised how quickly I've been pumping out chapters as of late, but it may be a while until I can write the next one (life and all) so I hope y'all enjoyed this one. Also, if they seem a little all over, the only time I get to write is in between around 9pm-2am... fml
> 
> RIP Utah.
> 
> That Phantom of The Opera reference was for my editor. She liked it a lot.
> 
> Also, fuck you and thank you Poseidon for being a big part of why Medusa is a thing.   
> Uma Thurman was soooo miscast in that train wreck of a film... I honestly thought, if anyone, she would have been a decent Hera/Juno (if they ended up getting into Heroes of Olympus territory) 
> 
> Anyways, off to Trenton, NJ we go! We just can't seem to get the fuck out of New Jersey!!!!
> 
> Hope y'all enjoyed and constructive criticism is always welcome so don't be shy :)
> 
> Your Floralist of Ninjas,  
> Reba The Mermaid


	10. Taking a Trip Through The Carwash of Emotions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the best title but it's the thought that counts right? haha
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy!

The safe house looked very similar to the one I had seen in my dream; dank, dirty, and hardly lived in. But, that was to be expected since David had mentioned during the drive up that it probably hadn’t been used in a few years. 

Trying to be gentlemanly, the guys offered me the small bed tucked away in the sole bedroom of the house. I declined since I felt, seeing as I hadn’t taken much of a lead so far during what was supposed to be MY quest, that I should take first watch. There wasn’t much arguing with me which was pretty nice, and they took a good few minutes to fight over who had to sleep on the couch. Finally, York got the bed and David just laid on the worn down piece of furniture failing to catch any ‘Z’s.

“I always got stuck on the couch,” he mumbled under an old afghan he’d grabbed from the closet.

“Could be worse,” I chuckled. “You could be sleeping on the floor. We’re lucky it’s just the three of us.” 

“True,” he peeked out from under his covers, “This one time-” He stopped short. “Never mind…”

“It’s about Connie isn’t it?” I said something I shouldn’t have. David’s face looked surprised, then it saddened until it had a very bitter expression. 

“How did you know about Connie? Did… did they scout you too?”

I shook my head and told him about my dreams; what they showed me about him, how they left me with more questions than answers, how Epsilon wouldn’t tell me a thing. He assured me, for the parts that he was conscious, it was all true. 

“Before… before Epsilon found us to guide to camp,” he began sitting up now being too riled up to sleep, “for a long time it was just Connie and me. I was young and stupid and ran away from home after some difficulties with my dad at the time. I didn’t realize how idiotic my actions were until I was across the state line, and about to be eaten by a cannibalistic giant. Connie saved me and kept me alive. She was like the epic, badass sister that I never had, well, until I got to camp and met Vanessa and my other siblings. For the longest time, Connie was my only family…” He curled up into a ball, hugging his legs and resting his chin on his knees.  
“Later on Maine found us and helped take down a few not-so-friendly cyclopes. He wasn’t a big talker back then either, but he got along pretty well with Connie. Whenever she was away hunting for food or scouting ahead, it was always so quiet and awkward being alone with him,” David chuckled softly as if he was remembering something fondly. But his smile quickly faded.

“From what you saw… that second vision… it was the day that Connie left. Three is a ‘sacred number’, ya know? So when Epsilon came to take us to Camp Half-Blood, not too long after he arrived, Connie was approached by the Hunters of Artemis. She was offered immortality and she took it. We never saw her again… Soon enough we got to New York, we got attacked, I wasn’t any match for the monsters and I barely made it to camp alive.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly happened between you and Epsilon?”

“Well, he almost got me killed. So that’s one thing.”

“That is a pretty big thing…”

“I think he’s more hung up about it than I am. He almost got his Keeper license revoked because of it, and I guess he just feels guilty. I mean, if I was indirectly responsible for someone under my care almost dying I would be a little messed up about it too. I’m just a reminder to him of one of his biggest mistakes…”

“Preaching to the choir.”

“Oh? Seriously? You’re like a major badass. How could you possibly-?”

“My mom was a bit more of a badass. From what I head from literally any living family member I’ve come across says that I ruined her life. I enjoyed fifteen years’ worth of ‘if only you hadn’t been born’ and that I basically killed her.”

“Zeus almighty, that’s brutal!”

“That’s not the half of it. They proceeded to tell me every single good thing about her even though they spent just as much time with her as I had; none. The only person I believed about my mom was my great-grandmother but I was too young to really understand… But when I was around four she got Alzheimer’s. For the next two years I was called my dead mother’s name. That- that can kind of mess a girl up, ya know? And now with Tex…”

“What about Tex?” David asked while shifting his seating position. It was hard for me to believe this kid next to me was the same age. Then again, it takes a lot to keep up a more ‘childish’ attitude after experiencing far more fucked up stuff than I ever have. Yet, at least. 

“She looks like my mom, kinda. It was a little unsettling at first but I just wrote it off as an Ares thing, like with some of the other kids; children of Hermes have those elf ears like York, children of Athena and children of Apollo are blonde, etc. But before we left, she tried to… connect. It was kinda weird but I actually felt, what’s the word, happy? Like I honestly had a family? I guess she’s turning out to be my ‘Connie’.”

“If you’re lucky, she won’t be like Connie. Knowing Tex, she’d probably join up with the Hunters if given the chance. The only thing stopping her would probably be Leonard. To get in, she’d have to vow to never have a relationship in that way with a man. If she broke that vow or died in battle, her immortality would go straight out the window. At least that’s how Connie explained it. She even gave me the pamphlet, but I was so upset about it that I kind of torched it…”

I tried to lighten up the mood by changing the subject to anything but Connie. “So speaking of the seaweed brain, what was the whole deal with that message for Leo-nerd? Nice doodle by the way.”

I managed to bring the smile back to his face and he let out a really dorky laugh. “Thanks. I’m glad someone appreciates my ‘art.’ And I’ll have to let Tucker know his nickname for ol’ crabby pants is catching on. But in all seriousness, it’s more Poseidon’s fault than it is his… Medusa and he were a thing like the story goes; they were caught doing ‘it’ in my mom’s temple, a holy place mind you, and she was rightfully pissed. And because of that, Medusa hates me and I’m indirectly mad at Leonard. The Greek circle of hate is a fundamental part of our lives. What the other gods or our parents do affects us whether we like it or not. Which is why I’m honestly surprised we aren’t killing each other right now seeing as Athena and Ares haven’t really ever gotten along…”

“I guess one of us is just a bad apple spoiling the war zone of a barrel,” I said.

“Yeah… Maybe… Can you be honest with me for a sec?”

“I thought I already was,” I tried hard not to come across as defensive but that was difficult seeing as it was just in my nature to be.

“Why did you pick me? I mean I know the dreams and all but you could have just ignored them. Picked Maine or Epsilon to go with you instead. Why me?”

“A feeling. Epsilon’s reaction to my dream and that prophesy I got helped with deciding too. I’m guessing you heard it from Dr. Church?”

“Yeah,” David sunk into the couch and hugged his knees. “’…one burdened with disgrace’? Sounds like a fit.”

“Chin up. ‘One will face their darkest fears’ is out of the way. We took down a gorgon!”

“I’m not so sure about that, Carolina. Children of Athena, well, we have a lot more to fear than just angry ex-priestesses… I’d rather not talk about it.”

I respected his space and dropped the subject. I’d already done enough prying and got way more out of it than I’d hoped so I was prepared to call it a night. After a while I could hear David was asleep – he was a whistler – and sooner than I’d realized my turn for watching was over. York forced me to sleep and made sure to tuck me in extra tight. It’s like he knew I didn’t take well to being bossed around. 

I ended up falling into a dreamless sleep. And what seemed to be a few seconds later, sunlight woke me through the small window from across the tiny bedroom. I could smell processed sugar and coffee coming from the main room.

As I went to inspect the smell, I was welcomed with my two companions laughing their asses off at my bedhead. 

“You look like Merida from Brave!” York howled almost spilling his cup of coffee.

“I think she’s more of an Anna than a Merida,” David said with his mouthful, powdered sugar raining down as he talked. 

“Ha ha, very funny,” I sarcastically said as I took my seat at the rotting kitchen table. “So have the tactical genius and the travel expert figured out a plan yet, or do I need to take charge here?” 

“Well, my best bet is that we take the car as far as we can go and figure it out from there,” York took a sip of his coffee. “It will take about the same time to get to Colorado from here as it would have back in Manhattan, so nothing really has changed plan wise. The tank still has a good amount of gas, and we’re bound to find a gas station on our little road trip. I say we get something in our stomachs,” he pushed a box of donuts towards me, “and burn one or two as offering to my dad. A prayer for safe travel is something I think we all need, and it would be awesome if he granted it to us.”

No one had any arguments with that. We joked around a little bit more and ate a little too quickly, giving David a bad case of hiccups. Much like how we arrived, with all our stuff slung across our backs, the safe house once again looked unlived in except for some spots of dust being cleaned. Before we hopped in the truck, York made a tiny campfire and threw in one of the donuts and a kolach as offering. David and I did the same for our respective parents. I just prayed that I would actually get to win the next fight. I wasn’t giving into the whole Ares vs Athena rivalry thing, but I wanted to one-up the boys on monster killing seeing as how this was my quest and all. Only the gods know what David prayed for, though something told me that it had to do with that one line from the prophecy. 

We piled into the pickup and headed off for only the gods know where. The cassette was still jammed and was getting very old very fast. The peacefulness of night was replaced with daily traffic and lots of angry drivers which made me want to step out of the vehicle and beat them with a tire iron. 

This was going to be a long ass trip…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Carolina is a Disney princess now. 
> 
> Basically this is the "Carolina and Wash talk and bond" chapter. Don't worry, York and Lina-bean will have their turn soon enough. 
> 
> I like writing a more goofy, pre-Epsilon AI bullshit Wash. I'm going to hate transitioning over to stick-up-his-butt, serious-pants Wash... Oh well. 
> 
> You can tell York knows how much Carolina loves insubordination. Bed sheets and blankets cant keep her down for long though. She will kick all the ass. Hopefully.
> 
> The next chapter (i did a lot of research and finally found a place that Uncle Rick hasn't used yet so HA) will be totally original and pretty chill. I'm going to enjoy writing it, though it might take some time considering it's taking place somewhere that's actually very close by me. I might have to take a "day-cation" pretty soon.
> 
> Like always, constructive criticism is always appreciated! And if you want to keep up to date with any of my stories, feel free to subscribe and/or follow my tumblr side-blog "rebathemermaid".
> 
> Hope y'all enjoyed and thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Your Floralist of Ninjas,  
> Reba The Mermaid


	11. Casual Lunch with a Pretty-Boy Ex-Shellfish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went on a day trip with my sister. This was the result of that trip. XD

The truck, after a couple stops for gas and snacks for a few hundred miles and hours of driving, finally died in Louisville, Kentucky of all places. We had to abandon it somewhere on I-64 W and were able to walk towards the nearest street without getting hit by the speeding cars. Making our way deeper into the city, we stayed close the Riverwalk and decided to stalk around the Wharf. 

“Look at the beauty!” York stopped where he stood on the Riverwalk causing David to bump into him and being knocked off his feet. I helped him up as we both looked at what had caught our friend’s eye. 

“It’s a boat,” David said. “What’s the big deal? There are plenty of boats on the river.”

“First of all, this isn’t just any boat,” the child of Hermes looked slightly offended, “and secondly, you need to read up on some history. That lovely lady is the Belle of Louisville! Over a hundred years old and still kicking. She’s had a little work done since her heyday but I won’t judge.” His eyes trailed over to a second smaller boat that looked like it was currently boarding. “Good ol’ Spirit of Jefferson; not as much history but still a handsome lil vessel.”

We followed him as he moved closer to the ship to be greeted by a woman in khaki shorts and a black polo with a camera strapped around her neck. Her sun bleached hair was long and braided to one side, and her smile was warm like the breeze blowing around us. It didn’t take long for us to realize she was staring right at us with her almost ocean like eyes. 

“Hurry on now, youngins!” the woman called. “Last chance to come aboard!”

“But we don’t-” I began to say before the woman finished my thought.

“Ticket? You mean these?” She pulled three tickets from her back pocket and tore off the stubs. “And don’t forget these!” Somehow, wristbands the same color as our shirts appeared on our wrists. “For the buffet,” she giggled. 

Before we could question any of what was going on, she started talking again, never missing a beat. “Now gather ‘round,” she motioned them to a life preserver held up by a wooden stand. Awkwardly, we did as she asked and she snapped a quick picture and motioned us to go onboard. Learning from our time in New Jersey we went straight for our weapons, hoping the mist (the mystical force that manipulated what mortals saw when demigod business occurred) would make it so no one freaked out about three kids with swords and spears. 

“Ah! You just reminded me!” she didn’t seem phased at all by the multiple pointy objects centimeters from her face. She cleared her throat and recited, “No weapons, or outside food or drink, are permitted on the Spirit of Jefferson. I’m going to have to hold on to those until after the lunch cruise.” Suddenly Kidemónas transformed back into a pocket knife and my companions’ blades became heavy, all of them dropping out of our hands and clunking to the ground. She picked up the weapons and placed them in a basket on the ship. “I’ll let you keep the nectar and ambrosia, safer with you than in a tiny tourist’s mouth. Kids love to snoop around after the first hour aboard. Anywho, come on kids! Lunch will be in a few moments and my brother would love to chit-chat with y’all.” She ushered us into the main level dining area. “Watch your step,” she kept saying as we all nearly tripped over the big drop. I figured it was to keep the doors heavily fortified in case of rough weather. 

Upon entering, another similarly dressed woman looked us over and bat her lashes. “Let’s see… name of reservation?” she playfully asked as though she knew who we were but needed to ask regardless. “Just ready the name on the ticket, darlin’,” she whispered to David who had had them shoved in his hand while being pushed. 

His eyes went wide as he read off the party name, “Church-”

“Ah yes! Table 6 all the way down the right side, honey. Look for the name card.” She smiled sweetly and motioned to the side with her hand. Seeing as we were the last ones to arrive on the packed boat, we walked on down to the table. Low and behold, there was a leather name card placed on the table. The table could sit six but only five chairs were available. In one sat a young man who could give some of the Aphrodite guys a run for their money. Looking at him made me mesmerized and jealous all at the same time. I glanced over at David and York to see that they were just as entranced by him as I was. 

When I thought about it, he looked a lot like the two crewmembers we encountered; long bleached hair (except his was shorter and pulled back into a pony tail), slightly sun kissed skin as though they spent most their time under the water than actually in the sun, and eyes that felt like you were swimming in them. However, he certainly wasn’t dressed like them. Instead of the plain looking uniform, he wore a black pea coat over a salmon colored dress shirt and finely tailored dress pants to match his coat. 

I was snapped out of my gawking when I saw his worn out sandals that made him look like a complete dork. “Come and sit,” he suggested after we finally noticed that we had probably been standing and staring a good few minutes. We all took the seats across from him, maybe because we were all too nervous to sit by his side. As soon as we sat down, the DJ, a younger woman who also shared similar traits to the other crewmates, once again welcomed us aboard and told us basic things; “wait for your table to be invited for the buffet”, “fun facts will be announced during the trip so pay attention”, “souvenir pictures are at the second deck snack bar”, etc.

“Ok. Someone has to ask it,” David spoke up after the DJ began to play some watered down pop song. “Who are you exactly? Did Dr. Church reserve us a table or?” His voice trailed off waiting for a reply.

The man laughed a little, a very charming laugh I would like to point out, and smiled at us earnestly. “How inconsiderate of me. My apologies, young David. I should be used to it by now, inducing myself that is. Not many remember my presence. I am Nerites.”

He was right about not being well remembered. Even though I was still learning of the many, many Greek “myths” and all the major and minor gods and deities, I don’t think his name was even mentioned in my history lessons. Nerites seemed to have a godly presence about him but I was debating if that was just his beauty emulating that feeling. 

“As for Dr. Church, he is a welcome guest on the ship,” he answered our second question. “When he isn’t at camp every century or so he stops and cruises for lunch. And seeing as you’re his students and campers, I felt it a nice idea to invite you aboard; free of charge mind you. Seeing as these lovely boats are respected members of the Louisville community, tourism and boat fare keep Idlewind and Mark well afloat.”

“Idlewind and Mark?” I looked at Nerites inquisitively.

“Those were their original names back in the day,” York answered instead. “Over the years they changed owners; Idlewind, then Avalon, then the Belle of Louisville, and Mark Twin, then Huck Finn, then Spirit of Jefferson.”

“You know your history, York. Wonderful to see such young people with knowledge of my second homes. Usually I just get grandparents with their grandchildren and teachers on summer break crowding aboard. Not too many in their adolescence seem to care about these wonderful ships. Always going to Beach Bend and Kentucky Kingdom when treasure troves of history can be found all around the city!” 

The boat began moving and table after table stood and lined up along the tables filled with food. Soon enough, a crew member walked over to us and invited us to fix our plates. Nerites encouraged us to go on ahead and eat as much as we liked, “It is a buffet after all.” Which was something I was glad to hear. We hadn’t eaten since this morning and I was starving. The lineup had different southern style dishes; green beans with beacon, mac and cheese, different meats like fried chicken, brisket, and ham side by side, dinner rolls and potato salad. I got as much as I could on my Styrofoam plate before grabbing a piece of pie from the well-guarded dessert table. I hadn’t noticed it until I got to it, but there had been another crew member in a chef’s hat looming over it the entire time. Our table was right at the end of the line so I placed my mound of food at my seat without having to risk dumping it on someone’s head. I think I even got more than the guys combined. 

I decided to eat my pie first. I had priorities.

The others soon took their seats and we all began digging in. It was pretty good as far as buffet food went. Seeing as I wasn’t too keen on southern cooking, it could have been worse.

“I was expecting some seafood on this cruise,” I jokingly remarked with a mouth full of pecan pie. I could see our host shudder at the mere mention of the thought.

“Good gods no!” he exclaimed. “I may be a sea deity of simple stature but I refuse to serve my own kind! Well… not my own kind exactly.” He frowned down at the table cloth.

“Oh stop being a worry whale!” a voice from behind us chimed up. Another crew member who looked a lot more lax in appearance stepped over and sat next to Nerites. “Forgive my brother’s CRABBY attitude. He tends to CALM up whenever he thinks about his ex.” 

“Nerea! Shoes!” We all looked down at the woman’s feet to see them bare.

“Nereids and shoes do NOT go together, and you know it. You might have our other sisters all toe-tied with sneakers and boots but I will not be bound by those accursed things! And you have no reason to silence me about your ONLY claim to ‘fame’ considering I was the one who saved your exoskeleton!” Nerea leaned in closer to us and began twirling her dyed green and blue braids. “So, you know Aphrodite, right? Oh who am I kidding, of course you do Carolina, she and your dad being an item and all.” 

“Don’t remind me,” I muttered as I picked at my potato salad with my plastic fork.

“Well, my bro and she were like a huge thing back before she became a goddess. Zeus was all like, ‘come on up to Olympus’ and she was like, ‘ok but I want you to come with Neri!’ But my brother was all, ‘nah I’m good here.’ So she offered him these gorgeous wings (I’m taking like heavenly stylish) to go with but he turned her down AGAIN.”

“What is a deity of the SEA supposed to do with a pair of wings?” Nerites protested. “Why would I trade the ocean blue for the blue sky? It just doesn’t make sense-”

“ANYWAYS, she gave those to Eros and was sooooo miffed that POOF she turned him into a… a… SHELLFISH!” The nereid burst out laughing.

“It’s not funny! I could have been eaten or worse!”

“Well, after a few millennia at least I could find a laugh out of it,” Nerea rolled her eyes in exasperation. “But back then, when I found him scuffling around on the ocean floor, I fliped my proverbial fins! I had to beg for like ever to get Poseidon to change him back. We’re lucky he likes us. Otherwise Nerites would be on some tourist’s plate at Joe’s Crab Shake.”

“I curse the day they build that ungodly abomination of an eatery next to our operations!” The deity slammed his first on the table causing David to almost choke on his ham. “If I was a lesser being I could have flooded the river and dragged it to the bottom to a watery grave!”

“Oh come now, we don’t need any more things in our river,” the nereid pointed out the porthole to a Gatorade bottle flouting on the surface. “The ducks share my distaste for trash in OUR river.”

The siblings bickered for a while longer while we ate. I honestly found it entertaining since it wasn’t my family doing it, and especially since I wasn’t in the middle of it. They mentioned at least twenty other sisters as they went back and forth with their ramblings. Thinking back, I remember that there were fifty nereids and a few who were very prominent with the gods. The mother of Achilles, Thetis not only gave birth to one of the most well-known heroes in mythology but the leader of the nereids. “Big Sis ‘Tis” wasn’t a force to be reckoned with. Even more so, another of their older sisters Amphitrite was the wife of the sea god himself. Maybe that’s why Nerites isn’t being shelled open with a side of butter. 

The topic changed after that to them arguing about the names of the boats.

“Why on earth do humans pick the silliest names for our ships?” Nerea mumbled, taking a sip of an ice cold beer she snagged from the drink station. “I mean naming this beaut’ after a talented son of Apollo like Samuel Clemons (Mark Twain, whatever), but then going from that to Jefferson? I know they were godly siblings but Zeus almighty was he an egocentric pain!”

“I liked when Belle was Avalon. Sure a beautiful name for a lovely young lady,” Nerites added dreamily. I had a feeling they had forgotten we were even there. 

The nereid who took our picture gathered up our empty plates and trash, and York and I decided to get up and enjoy the riverside. Seeing all the ship yards and the country clubs stapled by the water with a cool breeze blowing, I felt a long overdue calmness. It had been a long time since I had a relaxed moment. Even before getting to camp I had just been stressed and, well… angry all the time. But just a nice ride on a tour boat with a bunch of old people chatting with grandkids, millennials taking pictures, and two guys I almost died with made a nice change of pace. 

We had been on the boat for about an hour. David had fallen asleep on the porthole glass from having to listen to our two hosts drone on and on, and York and I just sat next to the railing. It was peaceful. 

“So,” York said still looking out at the moving landscape. “You never did apologize for breaking my nose.” He looked over at me and smirked.

“Well you never said ‘thank you’ for saving your life,” I reminded him whilst raising an eyebrow. 

“But I just saved your life, like, yesterday! I’d say we’re even on that front.”

“Technically, David did the hard part. It was more of a group effort to be honest. Plus, you re-killed Utah.”

“That was an accident.”

“AND,” I decided to add insult to injury, “for a child of the god of thieves, you ended up getting our shit stolen.” 

“That was- well… I didn’t want to wake your beautiful sleeping face?” he weakly replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Right. I’m sure that’s it.” I rolled my eyes. “You could get away with a line like that with any other girl, but not me. As a daughter of Ares, I have a certain limit to accepting ‘bullshit’. You’re pushing it.”

“I mean it though, about your face. You do this cute little crinkle thing with your nose. And you mumble. I’d love to hear more about how you won all of the Olympic metals,” he smirked as he cupped his hands over his mouth. “Go Carolina! USA! USA!”

I promptly smacked him in the arm. However, I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was laughing a little at his attempt to turn around the situation in his favor. So, I decided to throw him a bone.

“Fine. Sorry I punched you in your ‘pretty’ face. But in my defense you started it.”

“’No one puts baby in a corner’, huh?” He waggled his eye brows.

“Oh gods, you are so corny,” I chuckled.

“But I can make you laugh at least. And I’m sorry for… being such a gosh-darn good guy. Maybe I should just be more like some of my brothers. Do you like knock-knock jokes?”

“Not particularly…”

“Maybe stunning confidence like Felix-”

“FUCK NO.” 

“Language please, there are children present,” both of us turned around to see Nerites looming over us. It was a little startling. Maybe having a not-so-strong godly presence came with more good than bad. “It’s almost time for us to be getting back to port. So that means it’s your time to depart.” 

We were confused by what he meant but we ended up just following him to the bow of the boat. David and Nerea were already there, with our companion looking very uncomfortable having the nereid chatting away next to him. She noticed us mid-sentence and began handing back our weapons as “secretive” as she could. She also gave us some souvenirs; a coffee mug, a boy/girl scout patch, and a captain’s hat. Very touristy but I took the patch and shoved it in my pack. 

“Well, we can take y’all as far as the lower Missouri River,” the nereid explained. “Only can do so much since the Ohio River is all we have domain over. But we have a sister, not a very agreeable one mind you (hope you’ve got a good few drachma handy), who is willing to charter y’all a ways.”

I could tell York’s gears were turning in his head. He’s expression was tense but soon softened into a grin. “As long as you can get us to Kansas, I believe we can take it from there,” he replied then turned to David and me and gave us a knowing nod. Hopefully he’s explain later.

“Perfect,” Nerites smiled and handed us each a small plate of pie. “Best send an offering to Poseidon for safe travels. The waves have been a little choppy as of late. I have a feeling you’ll be needing favor with him, even for such a short distance.” We all nodded, threw our slices into the water and said a prayer. I made an effort to apologize about the whole “Medusa-head and blaming it on his son” thing. I could tell David was as well, but not as seriously. Like mother like son, I guess. Leave it to an Athena kid to hold a grudge. Then again, I’m not one to talk.

“Watch your step,” Nerea cautioned us as we hopped over the gate to the ramp that was used for docking. They seemed to manipulate the mist, seeing as none of the tourists stated panicking about three kids about to jump ship. Below us was a nereid much like the others braiding her hair and looking disinterested. She looked up for a second and gave a ‘come on’ motion with her hand before ignoring us entirely. 

“Thanks for the ride, Nerites. It’s been fun,” I addressed our host.

“I am glad to hear it, Carolina. And please, visit again any time. This is a safe place for your kind. Oh, and tell Dr. Church to not wait another few decades to come visit. I haven’t seen him since the dark times… The 80’s were not kind to the old fellow… I do hope he fixed that ghastly perm. And those awful glasses.” The deity cringed slightly. The rest of us held back laughter at the new found knowledge of our teacher. Nerea promised us photos another time.

We said our last goodbyes before jumping off the ramp with the sign above bidding us farewell, “Thank you for cruising.” One by one we dropped into the smaller vessel. The disinterested nereid snapped her fingers as soon as all of us were seated, and the boat began to trudge along the river, leaving the Spirit of Jefferson behind. The peaceful time was over. And soon we would be in Kansas for whatever York had planned up his sleeve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nerites is kinda the bae tbh. 
> 
> That's all i have to say haha.
> 
> This chapter was totally original content and if Nerites and Nerea pop up in the next book by Uncle Rick, then please ignore this :p
> 
> Constructive criticism is always appreciated! Feel free to subscribe to be updating with the story!
> 
> Your Floralish of Ninjas,  
> Reba The Mermaid


End file.
